Hold the Night For Morning's Coming Soon
by rosedale
Summary: What would happen if a zombie epidemic suddenly spread through Ohio? The boys at Dalton Academy are about to find out. Based on CP Coulter's "Dalton".
1. The First Infection

**This fic is coauthored by the fabulous acerulean!**

**This fic is based on CP Coulter's Dalton. We do not own Glee or any of these characters.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: The First Infection<strong>

A fist rapped lightly on the door of Windsor house, sending echoes through the dark common room to the brightly lit kitchen where a cluster of boys sat.

"Who would be visiting at this time?"

"No clue." Wes said absentmindedly as he reached for a cookie on the tray Kurt had just removed from the oven.

Kurt swatted away his hand, "Not yet. Once I start letting you guys at these they're gone in two seconds. At least wait until the second batch is done." Wes slumped in his chair, grumbling incoherently and giving him stomach a dramatic rub.

Another boy entered the kitchen, a broad grin settled comfortably on his face as he glided across the floor in a rather dapper fashion, "Cookies? Sweet!" He slid up to Kurt to give him an affectionate peck on the cheek before grabbing a pastry.

"No fair!" shouts erupted from the other boys in the kitchen.

"We aren't allowed to eat those yet!" Shane cried looking with wide eyed envy at the coveted treat in his brother's hand.

Blaine smiled surreptitiously, "Well, as boyfriend of the chef I get special privileges." He snaked an arm around Kurt's waist and settled into his side.

Kurt smirked at the incredulous faces around the room and then at the boy whose warm, strong arm fit so perfectly around him. "True," he smiled, "but you probably don't want to eat that yet. You'll burn your tongue."

"Well we wouldn't want that now would we?" Blaine winked at Kurt and softly nudged the boy's nose with own as tired groans filled the kitchen.

"Get a room!" Wes hollered.

Any further exclamations were interrupted by more knocking.

David looked up from the newspaper he was reading in the corner, "Someone should probably get that."

"I will!" Reed bolted up from his chair. He didn't get more than two steps before tripping over Shane's feet. The dancer caught him gracefully and set him back on the chair.

"I think you're going to stay right here with me." Shane grinned at Reed, mentally noting that he looked like a cherub disoriented by his fall from the heavens, as the boy glanced up at him appreciatively through his disheveled strawberry blonde curls.

Before anyone else could make an effort to reach the door, two pairs of feet were heard racing down the stairs at a breakneck pace. The boys in the kitchen listened as the door opened with a creak. "Talking flowers!" The Tweedle's voices resounded though Windsor. "Kurt you have visitors!"

Kurt set down the mixing bowl from which he had been spooning more batter onto a sheet and poked his head out of the kitchen door. "What?"

"Talking Flowers, Talking Flowers, Talking Flowers!" the Tweedles chanted.

"Mercedes!" Kurt exclaimed noticing his best friend from McKinley smiling at him from the doorway. He hurried toward them excitedly, embracing the girl that he hadn't seen in far too long.

"Oh my gosh, you brought the whole club!" he laughed peering into the dark and seeing the rest of New Directions smiling back at him. "Come in, come in!" He greeted each member of his old choir with a hug (and even managed not to roll his eyes at Puck's fist-bump and subsequent possible gang sign) as they trickled into the common room. He greeted Mr. Shuster last hugging the choir director fondly.

"It's so good to see you Kurt."

"You too, Mr. Schue. It's so great to see all of you." He gazed at the familiar faces around him while his excited hands attempted to straighten his fabulous, well-fitted sweater that had gotten rumpled during the enthusiastic welcome, "So what, may I ask, inspired this impromptu visit?"

"Mr. Schue arranged for us to see a concert, you know, to do some observational research—" Rachel Berry began on cue.

"And when we realized our way back to Lima passed by Dalton we thought we'd stop by." Mercedes finished for her.

"A concert for a choir field trip?" Kurt arched one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows in question.

"Ever since Sue got fired, the glee club's been the grateful recipient of her budget," Will answered in his endearingly matter-of-fact way, "so I thought why not take advantage of it and go do something fun as a choir."

The kitchen door swung open again and Blaine stepped out, eyes still on the clustered boys behind the door as he said, "Hey Kurt, I put the next batch of cookies in the—whoa New Directions!" A surprised smile lit up his face as he turned around to see McKinley's glee club. "Hey, really great to see you." He gave Rachel a hug and waved at Mercedes. "We were just making some cookies if you guys want some." He glanced at Kurt who nodded in approval.

"Come into the kitchen!" Kurt urged, grabbing the hands of the girls closest to him and leading them through the door at the other side of the room.

There were a few moments of confusion as the new comers and the boys in the kitchen greeted each other warmly. Exclamations of excitement filled the kitchen as Kurt began to pass out still-warm cookies, but soon all the highschoolers were settled around the room, treats in hand.

The kitchen was far too small for this gathering. Nearly every surface was being used as a seat, but the students were too filled with post-concert thrill and excitement at seeing friendly faces to be uncomfortable. Reed and Mercedes were conversing eagerly about a new fashion spread that had been released that week. Mike reintroduced himself to Shane, complimenting his moves from when they had danced together at the fair. Chaz looked amused and slightly annoyed as an excited Rachel Berry began to ramble about the solos she had scheduled herself to perform for nationals. Wes, David, Puck, Sam, and Artie began an intense debate about their favorite soccer teams, and the Twins were entertaining the rest of the talking flowers with wacky, outrageous jokes (demoniacal, Dwight would admonish) that could only possibly come from minds like theirs.

"I'm really glad you're doing well here, Kurt." Mr. Schuster said as he turned toward his former student, leaning on the counter as he contentedly chewed his cookie. "We miss you at McKinley, but it's nice to see you so happy."

Blaine squeezed his boyfriend's hand, signaling his wholehearted agreement with Mr. Schue. He could still remember the look of hurt and fear in those beautiful blue eyes the first time Kurt had told him about the bullying at McKinley, and that entire nightmare with Karofsky. It made his chest tighten to recall Kurt's heart wrenching confession that that…_horrible_ person had been his first kiss. All too clear recollections of the melancholy air that oppressed Kurt in those days before his transfer to Dalton lingered in the recesses of Blaine's memory– and they wouldn't let Blaine forget how alone and imperfect he himself had felt before they had met. Moving toward Kurt was like moving towards firm ground and safety and chaos all at once. Though they were still young, it was like he'd been waiting forever for someone to make him _right_. And Blaine knew Kurt had felt the same.

Blaine broke out of his reverie as he heard a loud thump on a nearby table. Puck swore loudly as Sam declared his victory in an intense bout of arm wrestling and Lauren laughed loudly at her boyfriend's sad defeat. Blaine smirked at the scene before looking back at Kurt, and reminding himself that those painful days were over now. They were together, and it made him exceedingly happy to think that maybe he had contributed just the tiniest bit to Kurt's contentment.

"Sorry to steal away your only countertenor," Blaine chuckled as Mr. Schuester turned back to he and Kurt after admonishing Puck for inappropriate language, "but I don't think we'll be giving him back anytime soon."

Mr. Schue laughed goodheartedly, "Well, I guess I can't win them all. However, I have been thinking, and maybe I should talk to your directors about this, I've heard many enthusiastic recounts of your little joint number at the fair. I was thinking that maybe the Warblers and New Directions should do a concert together! Both groups have very different styles, but I'm sure we could learn a lot from each other."

Kurt smiled to himself. Mr. Schuster's ideas were always about learning something. It warmed his heart to think of his old glee family buddying up with his new one. Transitioning to an entirely new world and way of living had been difficult without his closest friends from glee, but he'd met so many important people here— including perhaps the most important person. Kurt affectionately reached his hand out to fix a stray curl that had bounced from its gelled restraints near Blaine's ear as the boy began to express his excited approval of the idea. Before he could fully voice his agreement, Blaine was cut short by the rather loud entrance of another boy.

Dwight raced in, a large butterfly net held aloft. His quick, perceptive eyes were focused on the small ball of yellow feathers that had flown in before him.

"White Knight!" the Tweedles greeted him from behind Brittany, who was perched on both of their laps, "we have guests! Be a good boy and come say hi!"

Dwight was deaf to their words. He had no time for them right now. He was preoccupied with something far more important, something that could change the course of every single life in this room, and possibly every life beyond. His eyes followed Pav intently as the bird flew in an unusual ragged pattern towards the ceiling, its wings beating jerkily. A few pale yellow feathers fell from his wings and drifted ominously onto the tiled floor.

Kurt proffered a cookie with a graceful wave of his hand but the hunter ignored him, still fixated on the avian creature. After years of research and work in the field, Dwight had developed acute senses of detection. Nothing supernatural or sub-natural escaped his notice. Sure, some of the Windsor boys doubted the accuracy of his diagnoses, but Dwight was confident that he had rescued them from innumerable terrors. And right now his senses were going crazy- something was very, very wrong with their cherished mascot. Was he cursed? Had he contracted a virus? All Dwight knew was there was something very unnatural about the little, now not-so-bright yellow bird.

Wes noticed the object of Dwight's attention, "How did Pav get out again?"

Frustrated groans arose from many of the Windsor boys. _Not again._

The New Directions looked at the Windsor boys in confusion, but their questions were waved away and they were given an unspoken assurance that things would be explained later. The room fell silent as the Windsors tensed their muscles, ready to spring if the bird came within reach.

Suddenly Pav dived, a tuft of flurried fuzz and feathers zooming toward the tiled floor of the kitchen with unnatural aggression. The Twins rocketed upward (upsetting a still blissfully unaware Brittany in the process), hands outstretched, as at the same time Reed jumped up. The three boy's collided, effectively blocking Dwight from capturing the bird. Kurt watched Pav swoop toward him and stood still, hoping the bird would alight on his shoulder (displeased as he was to sacrifice the well-being of his new sweater, he'd about had it with this silly bird capturing business). He instead saw a quick flash of yellow dart past him to Mr. Schuester's shoulder, but Pav didn't land. Instead he flapped its way back up to the ceiling and remained inauspiciously suspended in the darkest corner of the room.

A few seconds too late, Dwight sprung towards Kurt, swinging his net violently like a sword. Kurt stumbled back and bumped one of the knobs on the stove, causing one of the burners to erupt in a ring of flame. Pav took this chance to make his escape. Like a little yellow bullet racing towards its target, the bird flew straight into the common room the disgruntled hunter rushing after him.

"What the hell was that?" Puck's exclamation summed up the McKinley crowd's confusion.

"A phoenix." Brittany replied matter-of-factly before recommencing her cookie eating from her new place on the floor.

As the Tweedles took it upon themselves to explain (in a way that involved a lot of hand gestures and invented adjectives, and made the whole situation more confusing rather than less) Kurt noticed the pained expression on his ex-choir director's face. "Are you alright Mr. Schue?"

"I just feel a little dizzy." The teacher rubbed the side of his neck and attempted to smile good naturedly, "I feel like I'm getting a head ache, but I'm probably just a bit tired."

"Why don't you rest before you hit the road again?" Blaine offered, worried by the teacher's sickly pallor which he didn't remember being present moments before.

"Thanks Blaine…I think I will."

A few of the New Directions members looked up in concern as Blaine escorted Will Schuster out of the kitchen, but their director somewhat assuaged their anxiety with a half-hearted explanation and a joke about being too old for their crazy shenanigans. Blaine fixed him up on the couch with a pillow, eyebrows momentarily furrowing with worry before he turned back to the lively commotion of the kitchen.

Within fifteen minutes they had forgotten about the director attempting to rest in the adjacent room and had begun to reprise their favorite songs from the concert that night. After a few group songs, Rachel stepped forward for her inevitable solo. Kurt and Santana rolled their eyes but were in too good of a mood to uphold their typically aloof exteriors.

_One mistake in a subtle way  
>Like I'm walking again, all on me<br>Step slowly, you know that you fall between  
>Dark places, what a simple web we weave<br>_

As the song sped up Blaine joined in, backing Rachel's melody with harmonies he seemed to pull out of thin air.

_We've seen the nightmare of the lies that you speak  
>The beast that I lie beneath is coming in<br>We've seen the nightmare of the lies that you speak  
>The beast that I lie beneath is coming in<br>_

The Warblers in the room added back up vocals in five part harmony as they rocked their bodies to the beat. Shane spun Reed and pulled him close to prevent the small boy from toppling over. Reed allowed himself to giggle appreciatively at the affectionate gesture, which in turn made the taller boy blush pleasantly.

_Know myself  
>Know myself<br>Well, oh hell  
>Prissy queen<br>Iron bars  
>Iron heart<br>Iron bars  
>Everything<br>_

By this time every singer in the room had lifted their voice, and they moved across the tile floor with a variety of rhythmic dance moves. Mike glided across the floor as if he possessed some sort of anti-gravity superpower, his limbs twisting impressively in time with the music; Sam was busy with his air-guitar as Puck and Finn fist-pumped beside him; Brittany shimmied suggestively up to Santana, who returned her sly glance and continued to cha-cha. The Windsor boys had, if not the dance moves, the energy to match New Directions; Wes and David had their own dance off comprised mostly of old-school moves, while Evan and Ethan danced some very high energy hip-hop, each motion perfectly synchronized.

_A hundred years old  
>A hundred years old<em>

Last on the village scene  
>Fall apart<br>Iron heart

Their voices crescendoed to new heights as they danced around the kitchen. Kurt's gracefully undulating arms made elegantly dramatic gestures to the air, and every now and then he would give a fierce twist of his shoulders or a pop of his hip. Blaine was content with literally interpreting the lyrics of the song with hand gestures and facial expressions. He leant in to his boyfriend's side to whisper something that was surely equal parts dorky and adorable, and Kurt smiled wide, eyes bright, before both boys burst into peals of laughter and continued to shimmy back and forth, hand in hand.

More alive than you've ever been

We've seen the nightmare of the lies that you speak  
>The beast that I lie beneath is coming in<br>We've seen the nightmare of the lies that you speak  
>The beast that I lie beneath is coming in<p>

Suddenly the door the living room violently burst open, revealing an oddly displeased and disheveled looking Mr. Schuester. The kids slowed their joyful dancing to a stop and fell quiet as they realized that it was probably their singing that had woken him up in such a bad mood.

"Sorry if we were too loud Mr. Schue, we got kinda caught up in the song."

The choir director returned Finn's apologetic gaze with his eyes dark under furrowed brows.

"You okay Mr. Schue?" Mercedes asked.

Will remained silent and turned to Tina who stood closest to him. His hands rose slowly as if he were going to place them on her shoulders, but his movements were curiously jerky, as if his joints had become stiff or he had lost control of own muscles.

Dwight, who had reentered the kitchen after giving up on his search for Pav, straightened up, suddenly alert, "Don't let him touch you Tina!"

"Wanky," Santana said lifting one dark eyebrow.

"Something's wrong," Dwight continued, "was he alone in that room? I think he's been possessed."

Wes elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Tina let out a scream as Mr. Shuester's hands latched firmly on either side of her neck. He pulled her toward him with something that curiously looked like malice plastered on his face. The other occupants of the room watched in confusion, and some began to hesitantly move toward the girl in Will's clutch.

The man lowered his head towards Tina's shoulder, his mouth gaping open. Tina struggled unsuccessfully to shake him off. Her eyes were wide with fear as she squirmed in his grip. She could almost hear her heart pounding loudly in her chest.

"Mr. Schue what are you doing!" Mike stepped toward his girlfriend protectively.

A sudden shout rang through the kitchen, "Let her go!" Dwight dashed toward the crazed looking man and brandished a lighter. The flame flickered threateningly as he waved it in front of the director's face.

The man's expression contracted in a look of rage and hateful fear. His pupils constricted and he released Tina as he backed away from the dancing flame. Inarticulate growls escaped his chest, and his limbs continued their jerky, tense movements as he strained against the air to escape the heat of the flame.

"Evan, Ethan, don't you have lighters?" The Twins pulled identical yellow lighters out of their back right pockets and held them up in the same way as Dwight.

Slowly Dwight took a step forward, and Mr. Schuster took a step backwards, maintaining a safe foot or two between him and the approaching flame. The rest of the teenagers looked on in frightened awe at the scene before them. They remained stagnant in their places throughout the room, for the sheer lack of knowing what to do when your choir director suddenly loses all human composure. Dwight and the Tweedles advanced on the enraged Mr. Schuster, who continued to back away from their lighters like a rabid animal being surrounded by hunters. They eventually forced him through the kitchen to the back door, where he fled wildly into the night.

Every eye in the room fixated on the door through which the man had disappeared. They gaped in silence, too shocked to yet voice their confusion. Kurt's left hand was balled into a tight fist, while his right clutched at the chair he was leaning on. His knuckles burned white from the tightness of his grip, and Blaine reached around and began rubbing small, comforting circles in the small of Kurt's back, while trying to control his own slightly erratic breathing and just process what _the hell_ had exactly just happened.

Rachel was the first to regain her voice, "What's wrong with Mr. Schuster?" her words trembled.

"I don't think that's Mr. Schuster," Dwight answered, "not anymore…"


	2. There's Something in the Shed

**Sorry this took pretty much forever. Life happened.**

**Originally this chapter was going to be twice as long but I wanted to get at least something uploaded so it will now be in two parts.**

**Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter and now came back to this one, I promise to get the rest out in a timely manner.**

**Once again I own nothing. This is based on CP Coulter's Dalton.  
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><p>"Just sit still!"<p>

Shane stuck out his tongue and resumed the pose Reed had instructed him to hold. He was finding it rather difficult to remain stationary and keep his eyes off of the pixie like boy bouncing cheerfully around him taking photos.

"Hold the flower just a little bit higher."

Shane obliged and Reed snapped a picture with the expensive, high-tech camera his mother had just sent him a week ago.

"That one came out good!" Reed squealed with excitement looking down at the digital screen.

Smiling at the other boy's genuine enthusiasm, Shane stood up. He leaned over a planter overflowing with fresh spring flowers in beautiful pinks, purples, whites, and yellows. With almost comical deliberation he chose a few blossoms, adding them to the pink rose Reed had asked him to pose with, and making a pretty little bouquet. "I still don't understand why you are taking pictures of me," he said nonchalantly, "You are the one who should be in the pictures. You're gorgeous." He looked over at Reed's angelic face glowing in the morning sunlight. The small embarrassed smile and delicate rosy flush that Shane's compliment had elicited outshone the beauty of the flowers that lay all around them.

"That wouldn't help me improve my photography skills though…" Reed averted his eyes pretending to seem interested in a cluster of hyacinths, "And I think you look very handsome in the pictures."

"Oh you do, do you?" Shane beamed.

Reed moved past the hyacinths and tried to hide his deepening blush by capturing a few photos of a rose bush heavy with white blossoms. He knew the chagrin had not escaped Shane.

The taller boy came up next to him and extended the small nosegay he had made. "For you."

Their fingers brushed as Reed accepted the token of Shane's adoration, "Thank you, they're beautiful." He let his camera hang by the strap around his neck and brought the handful of flowers to his nose, inhaling their tantalizing perfume.

"We should take a picture together."

"Alright."

Shane gently lifted the camera off from around Reed's neck and placed it on a low brick wall. He motioned for Reed to sit on a white washed wrought iron bench that sat in front of a planter teeming with heavy blossoms. The back of the bench arched in ornate spirals mimicking the flowers around it. Sitting on that bench, in his Victorian style double breasted vest, surrounded by a garden grand enough to rival Eden, Reed looked like a picture of old world beauty. Shane squinted at where Reed sat, trying to figure out which angle would best capture the way the beams of morning sun bounced off his tousled curls and how the red rose bush creeping up behind the bench brought out the effervescent, pink glow of his delicately beautiful lips.

Finally, Shane set the timer, _beep beep. _With a long bounds, he sprinted gracefully back to the bench and sat next to Reed. _Beep beep,_ he threw one arm around Reed's shoulders and they smiled brightly. _Beepbeepbeepbeep. _The second before the picture took Shane leaned over pressing his lips to the soft skin of Reed's cheek. The smaller boy let out a quiet "oh" in surprise. Shane pulled away laughing and ran back to the camera silently congratulating himself.

The picture was even better than Shane could have hoped. It captured Reed in the moment of surprise. His eyebrows were raised and the topaz eyes were as wide as the golden petaled day lilies that sprung up at his feet. Reed's pink lips were parted slightly into a small "o" telltale of the surprise the angelic boy had experienced as he felt Shane's lips brush his cheekbone. Shane felt his heart skip a beat as he detected in that face not only astonishment but a small sparkle in the eyes that betrayed genuine pleasure.

"Happy now?" Reed asked trying to conceal the smile dancing around his lips.

"Extremely." Shane grinned, his eyes crinkling with sincere delight in a way that made it impossible for Reed to suppress his own smile any longer.

Dragging his eyes away from that face that he knew he could stare at for hours if he didn't force himself to look elsewhere, Reed stood up and wandered toward a wooden shed on the other side of the garden. Shane followed, again fixated by the picture. "I wonder if they have any flower pots in there," Reed thought aloud as he reached to open the already ajar door, "I could use them to—" His sentence was cut off by a feral snarl. Instinctively, Shane stepped in front of Reed and slammed the door shut.

"What the hell is in there?" He gasped, breathless with sudden alarm.

"I don't know," Reed replied a slight shakiness creeping into his voice.

They jumped as the door bulged, whatever was inside pounded to be let out. Shane pushed up against it with all his body weight. "Reed hand me that padlock." He commanded firmly.

Nervously, the boy picked the lock up from where it lay in the dirt, fumbling a bit. He handed it to Shane who with deft hands locked the door securely in place. They stepped back Shane keeping himself protectively between Reed and the still shaking shed.

"I think that lock will hold but just in case…" He motioned for Reed to help him lift the wrought iron bench they had been sitting on moments before. The bench was heavy but neither boy seemed to notice, intent as they were on protecting themselves. They pushed it up against the door and stood back breathless.

"I'm so confused," Reed gazed up at Shane hoping for answers but knowing the other boy was likely just as perplexed, "what's in there?"

"I don't know," Shane replied, "but it seems pretty strong, and it definitely didn't sound too friendly."

Now that the shock had worn off the boys were feeling more curious than afraid. This was definitely very odd, and after all what was there ever to fear at Dalton (aside from the Twins and Logan, but Reed could handle them well enough).

As they observed the once again motionless shed, something occurred to Reed, "There's a window on the other side, I know because that's where I used to keep my orchids in the winter so that they would still get enough sunlight. Maybe we can see what's inside."

Without hesitation, Shane grabbed Reed's hand and the two boys ran to the other side of the small building.

The bottom of the window was slightly below Shane's chest height. It extended about two feet up and was approximately three feet wide. Thanks to the high aesthetic standards at Dalton the window was clean and they had a clear picture of the shadowy interior.

Their eyes were automatically drawn to movement in the darkest corner of the shed. The figure of a man was crouched in a distinctively animalistic pose. His motions were no quicker than the average man's but he seemed to possess a quality of movement that was far from human. Reed was didn't know why, but he felt a sudden surge of repulsion as if his body could sense he was in the presence of something that was not natural.

Then, at the same moment, their eyes feel on the shapeless mass of red matter that the creature, for he did not seem to be truly a man, was picking through.

"Is he eating raw meat?" Reed's curiosity was quickly starting to evolve into a mix of disgust and fear.

Shane nodded swallowing down the lump of fear building in his throat, "I think the better question is, what _type_ of raw meat is he eating?"

Reed realized the horror of this statement and fell silent as he tried to process the idea of what he might be seeing. Shane continued to stare at the figure, there was something familiar about that back about the clothes, he recognized that vest, even though it seemed so alien. He wanted to see the face…

"What are you doing?" Reed hissed as Shane raised his fist.

"Figuring out who this monster is." Shane answered his face stony and he rapped his knuckles against the cool pane of glass.

The figure spun around. Both boys screamed as they saw the pale bloodstained face of William Schuster.

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><p>"Good morning Ohio! For those of you just joining us, welcome! This is Chuck Scott on OSPR, Ohio State Public Radio. It's now time for the 9:30 morning news update!" The cheery male voice from Blaine's radio woke him up and he rolled over burying his face in the pillow.<p>

"First up, random acts of violence have been cropping up increasingly over the last 24 hours in central Ohio near Columbus. There have been multiple reports of brutal, unarmed attacks." Blaine propped himself up on his elbows attention caught by the news report.

"Witnesses have described the attacks as 'ruthless, 'beast-like', and 'unprovoked'." Blaine tilted his head thoughtfully, this type of attack sounded all too familiar.

"Attackers seem to be of all ages, genders, and races. No one has yet been brought into custody. At the current moment it would appear that whatever operation this is works primarily at night because the amounts of attacks have decreased drastically since sunrise. Police are as of yet unable to put forth any theories but they urge citizens in the Columbus area to stay in the safety of their homes as much as possible and lock their doors."

Blaine sat up, he was on edge. He would have liked to think that the incident last night was nothing more than a nightmare, but judging by the vividness of his memories it wasn't. And now this news report had him thinking. There was definitely something very odd going on.

His phone buzzed and he picked it up, glancing at the other bed in his room and realizing it was empty. "Hey Shane, what's up?"

"Blaine, Blaine, you have to come down here, you have to come here now." Shane's rushed through words in some sort of violent agitation. "We found Mr. Schue. And something is wrong, something is very wrong. He's- he's some kind of monster, like a vampire or a werewolf or something. He-he…" Blaine could hear Shane shudder. "You need to come see this. I don't know what to do!"

"Okay, calm down." Blaine told his younger brother, still trying to work through Shane's mess of excited sentences. "Where are you and who's with you?"

"By the shed at the back of the garden. And Reed."

"Are you safe?"

"Right now yeah, but—"

Blaine cut him off before he could embark on another nearly unintelligible ramble, "Alright I'll be down there soon."

"Okay, hurry!" Blaine could hear another voice that must have been Reed in the background. "And bring Dwight!" Shane hung up.

Blaine quickly slipped into the first jeans, t-shirt, and pair of shoes he came across. He may not have been exactly able to figure out what was going on but he knew it was serious, and a hunch told him that it all had something to do with that radio broadcast.

Kurt emerged from the room across the hall as Blaine opened his door.

"Morning." The boy mumbled, running one hand through his disheveled hair and clutching a mug of coffee in the other. Even in his rush Blaine noticed how attractive Kurt looked with his messy morning hair and still sleep laden smile.

Blaine gave his boyfriend a hasty kiss on the forehead and jumped into an explanation of his urgency, "Listen, Shane just called me. Something's wrong, he said something about Mr. Schue. I have to go check it out."

Kurt's brow furrowed in concern and confusion. "Alright, I'm coming with you." He drained his coffee cup and the two boys took hands as they jogged down the hallway to Dwight's room.

They found the supernatural expert huddled on his bed his nose in a very old decrepit looking book. When they entered he raised a finger to his lips and jerked his head to the other side of the room where Todd was sprawled across his bed fast asleep. Blaine motioned for Dwight to join them in the hall so the demon hunter extraordinaire tucked the tome under his arm and leapt across his room landing in a perfectly positioned salt circle with a thud. Todd rolled over, so used to Dwight's loud morning ritual that he remained sound asleep.

"I figured you would come." Dwight said mysteriously as he stepped into the hallway. Blaine ignored the other boy's enigmatic greeting and dived straight into his reason for being there.

After he had divulged all that he had been able to gather from his brother's rather vague phone call, he gazed at the hunter expectantly.

"I knew something like this was going to happen this morning," were the first words out of Dwight's mouth, "but I reserve any theories until I have seen what it is your brother was talking about." He checked his belt, making sure his holy-water-sprayer and bag of salt were in their usual places and motioned for the other boys to follow him down the hallway.

The three boys set off at brisk pace. As they descended the staircase they were stopped by two cheerful voices. "We're coming too!" shouted the Tweedles bounding down the hallway.

No one asked how the Twins had known what they were doing. Everyone in Windsor was accustomed to the identical boys being as omniscient as they were exuberant.

The five boys picked their way quietly across the living room, trying not to wake any of the blanket wrapped bodies on the floor. After the fiasco of the previous night the New Directions had decided to stay at Dalton until they could locate their director and put him to rights. Their sleeping forms made their passage across the living room rather tedious, that is for everyone but the Tweedles who skipped easily around the slumbering obstacles.

Once outside the group broke into a sprint. They found Reed and Shane about twenty feet away from the small building watching it warily with nauseated looks on their faces.

"Blaine!" Shane felt a small sense of relief at seeing his older brother, "It's horrible Blaine! I don't know what he is, what _it _is." He continued to speak but his frantic words slurred together and became indecipherable.

The new arrivals stared at him in confusion, they couldn't make out what the boy was saying but they knew it was bad, very bad. Shane often over reacted but only Blaine had ever seen him look this genuinely terrified.

The younger Anderson fell silent when he was interrupted by the shorter boy who grasped his hand with white knuckles and shook perceptibly. "I-i-it's Mr. Schuster," Reed stuttered, "we found him in the shed. He's become something h-horrible." A shudder shook his small frame.

Kurt's stomach seemed to drop past his toes. He remembered the hungry look in Mr. Schuester's eyes as he had pulled Tina toward him. Ignoring reason, he had hoped it was simply a momentary bout of insanity but if things were really as bad as Reed and Shane made them sound, the insanity was not temporary. Kurt put a hand on either of Reed's shoulders, "What do you mean he's become something horrible?" he heard the quaver in his own voice.

Reed shook his head, unable to find the words to explain.

Shane found his voice again and spoke more slowly than before, "You can see for yourself, there's a window on the other side of the shed."

Dwight took off running, a Tweedle on either side of him. Kurt followed them with his eyes but couldn't seem to get his legs to move. He was terrified of what he would see if he looked into that dark shed. Mr. Schuster had been a role model for him, an adult he could talk to even if he didn't always have answers or solutions. Flashes of last night came back to him, Mr. Schue's blood-lust filled eyes. He didn't think he could stand seeing those eyes again, and he was frightened to witness any other frightening transformation Reed and Shane had seen in the man who had once been his mentor.

Almost against his will Kurt's feet began to move. He and Blaine travelled across the grass, hand in hand. He was gripping Blaine's hand so tightly that the boy's fingers began to tingle with loss of circulation. Blaine hardly noticed.

Twin gasps of horror made Kurt's blood run cold. The other three boys had reached the window, they parted as Kurt and Blaine approached.

Kurt saw the hunched figure, the blood, the chunks of raw flesh. "Is he eating…", Kurt couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

"I think he might be…" Dwight answered.

Kurt felt bile creeping up the back of his throat.

The five boys gasped as the thing inside the shed spun around fixing them with blood shot eyes, it's gore stained mouth opening and closing manically. At that moment Kurt knew that not one ounce of the man he had loved and admired was left in that monstrous body. He felt sick.

Without a moment's hesitation the thing came rushing toward the window. It pounded with bloody hands on the glass trying to get at them. It's eyes darted back and forth to each of the horrified faces with look of feral hunger.

Kurt let out an ear splitting scream and stumbled backwards. He was saved from colliding with the ground by Blaine's steady arms. Blaine heard the gagging noises and Kurt's stomach began to heave and rushed his boyfriend to a nearby bush.

When Kurt reemerged the Twins were next to him identical looks of concern etched across their brows. They offered him a tissue which he gratefully patted across his trembling lips.

The boys moved silently away from the shed. No one could think of anything to say.

Dwight stood with Reed and Shane who still clutched each other shaking. The hunter's face was drawn and weary. He slouched with his shoulder's hunched forward making his thin neck appear longer than it was. Among the whole group he was the only one who looked neither surprised nor frightened. "I had hoped that the signs weren't pointing to this." He mumbled rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

"What? Point to what?" Shane asked worriedly.

Dwight's eyes were heavy with a disconcerting sadness. Before he could reply the Brightmans were speaking in low controlled voices, "Do you think—" "he could be—" They stopped neither wanting to say the word.

Dwight looked at them seriously, "After last night's incident I did some research." He opened the book he had brought from his room, "it is hard to find a reliable source when it comes to information on the sub-human. This book is as good as any I've come across and in my personal experience it has proven to be _mostly _right." The eye rolls that customarily followed Dwight's speeches were absent. Current events had shaken the boys enough to make them believe anything the boy told them.

"I searched in here for a condition with the symptoms Mr. Schue exhibited last night; trying to bite Tina, shrinking from the flame, and seeking refuge in the dark. And now he's eating raw flesh, whether it is human or otherwise, it falls in line with the rest." His audience held their breath anxiously awaiting his prognosis. "I think William Schuster has become a zombie."

It took a moment for the word to wash over the silent group before they were able to react. Reed squeaked hiding his face in Shane's side. The taller boy leaned on his shaking companion for support. Kurt and Blaine's mouths fell open in disbelief. The Windsor boys usually took Dwight's theories with a whole mountain of salt, but now they were predisposed to take the hunters diagnosis as the truth.

Only Evan and Ethan didn't seem stunned. They shook their heads sadly as if their worst theories had been confirmed.

"You're kidding right?" Shane asked with an effort to be optimistic.

Dwight's scraggly brown locks flopped on his forehead as he shook his head resigned.

"You can't be—" it was easier for Shane to doubt Dwight's hypothesis than deal with the implications if it were true.

"I wish I weren't serious, but I am. Will Schuster has become as zombie and that means we have no option but to kill him."

The response this statement elicited was far more drastic than the resolute hunter of the supernatural had expected. A strangled high pitched screech tore from Reed's lips and he crashed backwards onto the grass with a thump far louder than his hardly existent body seemed capable of making. Shane, usually there to save Reed with his impressive reflexes, gaped at Dwight too aghast to notice Reed's fall. The Tweedles stood like twin pillars, faces grim and drained of blood.

Blaine would have sensed Kurt stiffening next to him if he hadn't already gone numb. The words hit him like an electric shock, striking though his body and momentarily freezing each organ before starting them at twice their normal pace.

He was the first to come back to his senses, "Dwight," he stammered, "I know you are very…" he struggled to find the appropriate word, "knowledgeable about these things, but we are _not _going to kill Mr. Schuster." His shocked hesitation had disappeared and the determined leader was again emerging.

Dwight's dark brows disappeared into his shaggy mop of hair, astonished at the older boy's defiance. He didn't attempt to hide the condescension in his voice as he explained the necessity of what he saw as the only viable option, "Blaine, if he is allowed to continue existing he will only spread the disease infecting other with this demonic plague. He is a danger to us, a danger to humanity as a whole. He must be destroyed."

Blaine shook his head. He could see what Dwight meant but they couldn't jump to conclusions, they knew nothing about Mr. Schue's condition. He opened his mouth but was unable to voice a syllable before he was interrupted by a startlingly incensed voice.

"Who the hell do you think you are!" Kurt shouted pushing past Blaine. His large eyes burned with livid, blue fire. "So you get to decide who lives and who dies?" He glowered menacingly at Dwight who seemed to shrink before him. "All 'cause you read a few stupid ghost stories and now you think you are some guardian angel here to shield us from demons, and zombies, and from being possessed. Well maybe you are the one who is possessed. Maybe we need to be protected from you!"

Blaine knew Kurt well enough to sense the hurt and the fear that had ignited this blaze of anger. With strong arms he grabbed the petite boy around the waist, dragging him back away from the cowering supernaturalist.

Kurt struggled, his soft hands tearing at the vice like arms around his waist. He contorted his thin body back and forth trying to break free and continue his rage, but to no avail. He twisted around and found his face inches from Blaine's. Those soft lips, so often curved in a ridiculous grin, were set in a thin firm line, the steady hazel eyes studied every aspect of his face. Kurt felt the flame of his anger quenched by that patient stare and he collapsed.

Blaine knees buckled momentarily as the weight of the other boy fell on him. Kurt's arms grasped at his shoulders, fingers twisting desperately into the fabric of Blaine's shirt. Violent sobs caused convulsions throughout his body. Hot tears fell from Kurt's eyes onto Blaine's skin where he had his face buried in his boyfriend's neck.

The other boys looked on, struggling to shake off the overwhelming shock of their situation. Shane noticed Reed sitting at his feet, hoisted him up by the armpits, and held his protectively close.

Dwight took a hesitant step toward Kurt hunched further inward as if he expected a blow or more stinging words. His voice was soft and Blaine could hear a note of pleading in his it, "Kurt that monster is _not _Mr. Schue. Do you think he would want to be like this? Do you think he wants to be a creature of some dark underworld, hurting others, maybe even hurting you?"

Kurt turned his swollen red eyes onto the boy appealing to him. The corners of his mouth twitched downward puckering the skin of his chin.

"It will give him rest." Dwight murmured.

It was perfectly clear to Dwight what he needed to do. Kurt just didn't understand how this was best for everyone, including Mr. Schue. Screwing up his own courage he took a step past the distraught boy.

"Wait!" A strong hand grasped the back of Dwight's jacket, pulling him back the short distance he had just traveled.

Blaine struggled to keep a firm grasp on the hunter while maintaining his comforting arm around Kurt's waist. Seeing his boyfriend's predicament Kurt freed him, and stood unsteadily on him own.

"You aren't going to kill him yet." Blaine's voice rang clearly across the grounds. "We need to see if we can get help, if we can figure out what is going on." He spun the taller boy around to face him, "There might be a cure! Another option."

Dwight shook his head and mumbled something that Blaine interpreted to be some form of disagreement. The dissenting boy pried himself away from Blaine, determined to follow his previous trajectory.

Two hands landed on his shoulders and he looked back, annoyed by the constant attempts to halt him from saving them. "Good Sir Knight" the Twins addressed him in perfect unison, "Please listen to the White Rabbit." Dwight opened his mouth but his protests were stifled. "We understand why you want to kill him but we don't know enough. We can't rush into this."

This gave Dwight pause. The twins rushed into everything, so if they thought it was a bad idea then it must be…

"Alright, but if it turns out to be what I think then we do it my way."

"Fair enough." Blaine nodded. He pulled out his phone. He wasn't sure what the authorities would do to aid this situation, but it was worth a shot.


	3. A Cold and Friendless Tide

**Once again this fic is based on CP Coulter's **_**Dalton**_**. Any characters which are not her OCs are owned by Glee.**

**So I feel like I keep being kind of rushed on these chapters but I wanted to get this out before I head to Florida for vacation. I promise the next one will be more finessed. **

**I don't think I have mentioned this before but this fic will involve (multiple) character deaths. I haven't completely decided who yet but if you have any suggestions let me know!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Justin Bancroft knew he was the only living being in Hanover House. The building was overrun with those monsters that used to be his class mates. He had narrowly escaped attack by locking himself in the third floor storage closet and now he sat huddled on the floor, knees to his chest, rocking back and forth.<p>

The floor was uncomfortably hard and the stagnant air was stuffy, but he had stopped noticing. Just like how he had stopped noticing the twisting pains in his stomach and the dry chalky taste in his mouth. However, the one thing he could not ignore, no matter how hard he tried, was the sounds. The raucous moans and ominous dragging of heavy feet back and forth across the hallway seemed to press in on him from all sides. Those bone chilling, gut clenching sounds, more than anything else, convinced him that he was going to die here in this closet utterly, and terribly alone.

He had to block the sound out. He had to, he had to, he had too. And that is why in moments of hopeless desperation he sang.

_I'll be your candle on the water  
>'Till ev'ry wave is warm and bright<em>

His voice rasped as like sandpaper pulled across rough wood.

_My soul is there beside you  
>Let this candle guide you<br>Soon you'll see a golden stream of light_

Uneven footsteps passed by outside and he jammed his head between his knees, trying to block out everything but the words trailing weakly from his lips.

_A cold and friendless tide has found you  
>Don't let the stormy darkness pull you down<em>

He didn't notice the salty tears dripping slowly down his nose and onto the cold wooden floor. If he had he would simply be surprised that he still had enough water in his body to form tears.

_I'll paint a ray of hope around you  
>Circling in the air<br>Lighted by a prayer_

I'll be your candle on the water  
>This flame inside of me will grow<br>Keep holding on you'll make it  
>Here's my hand so take it<br>Look for me reaching out to show  
>As sure as rivers flow<br>I'll never let you go

His lips moved soundlessly for a minute but he was fading and in another second he had lapsed into a fitful state of unconsciousness that had replaced sleep.

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><p>Han Westwood put down his head phones a small tear beading in the corner of his eye. He couldn't tell whose voice it was that his microphone strategically placed in the third floor storage closet in Hanover House, but he knew that he wasn't going to let that poor soul suffer alone for much longer. Hold on little buddy the caterpillar is sending help.<p>

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><p>Kurt hummed to himself as his graceful legs carried him leisurely down the second floor hallway. His brow glistened with the slightest sprinkling or perspiration which he dabbed off with the back of his wrist. He liked people believing that he didn't sweat, although a morning full of re-nailing heavy wooden boards definitely warranted a little moisture. He smiled to himself remembering the impressed look on Puck and Finn's faces when he showed both of them up with his competence at using an electric screw gun.<p>

It had been two mornings since they had found the zombie that had been Mr. Schuster lurking in the garden shed, and the changes that had come over Windsor house since then were drastic, to say the least.

Kurt remember that morning after finding Mr. Schue: the way Blaine had bit his lips with frustration as he tried to get reception on his cell phone, and the frantic dash back to Windsor and a land line, and how frustration turned to panic as the land line refused to connect.

He had a vague recollection of the New Directions, who had camped out in the living room, looking at their frantic group with questions in their sleepy eyes. It was Han's voice crackling over the speakers that had finally given them some form of an answer.

"Don't bother with the phone, all satellite and other reception to this area has been suspended." This announcement was answered by confused shouts. "I've picked up on a line of military communication. An aggressive plague has spread through this region of Ohio, a plague that no one can help but compare to a zombie virus. The federal government had organized a military quarantine. Any moving body that approaches the boarder from our side is shot on sight."

Kurt tried not to remember the leaden silence that had followed this information. The slow sinking feeling in his gut as his lungs slowly closed, his own body suffocating him. Looking back, he figured he shouldn't be surprised by the wide array of reactions. How some of the boys, despite Han's warning, decided that they were going to try to escape the quarantine.

If Kurt closed his eyes he was sure he could still see the identical look on the Twins' faces as they watched some of their housemates walk out the door. Their crystalline tears gathered in their cyan eyes and the corners of their mouths tugged down in sadness and a hint of disappointment. The Brightman twins were pranksters, constantly pushing their friends' buttons and testing limits, but if there was one thing they believed in it was solidarity.

Then had come the task of informing the New Directions of Mr. Schue's whereabouts and current condition. The few that had been brave enough to visit the shed reacted in a way very similar to Kurt. Once that ordeal was done it was time to think about the future, how a group of teenagers were going to survive in a zombie infested land until the government decided to lift the quarantine.

Everyone was extremely glad their first actions were to fortify all the windows and doors on the ground floor. They probably would have been able to fend off the three zombies that paid Windsor a visit that night, but the ten that came the next night would have been a very formidable challenge.

"Kurt!" The loud and unmistakable voice of Rachel Berry snapped him out of his reverie. He turned back to the room which Rachel now inhabited with Mercedes.

"Yes Darling what can I do for you today?" Kurt smiled with false cheer.

Rachel flipped her bangs with her usual down-to-business attitude. "Well, as you probably remember I am captain of the New Directions –"

Kurt raised a hand to silence her, "You do realize, Rachel, that in light of the recent zombie apocalypse that title has no significance, right?"

"What I am trying to say, _Kurt_, is that I am a leader and as a leader I feel that I should be given a position of power. It would boost the New Directions' spirits to see one of their own leading the charge. You know how hard we all took the Mr. Schue thing."

Kurt listened to her with lips pursed into a tight line and eyes wide, his best I-think-this-is-ridiculous-but-I'm-gonna-listen-to-be-polite face on. "All right Rachel, I don't see how putting _you _in charge is going to make them feel better about their choir director and adult mentor being turned into a zombie, _but _I know you Rachel, and I know that if I don't give you something to do you are going to drive me crazy."

Rachel's winning smile faltered, but Kurt winked good naturedly and patted her gently on the arm. "Besides you've always been good at keeping things in line. I'll talk to Charlie see what roles he needs filled."

Rachel nodded with satisfaction, "Thanks Kurt." And with a swish of her long dark hair she returned to her room.

As Kurt recommenced his journey down the hallway, he stretched his stiff arms up above his head, the slightly too short t-shirt that he had borrowed from Blaine (so that none of his beautiful clothes had to be marred by manual labor) riding up and revealing a few inches of pale, vulnerable skin.

Fingertips ghosted across his exposed back. Kurt started in fright but laughed at his own jumpiness when he recognized the arms that wrapped around his waist. "My clothes are a bit too small for you." Blaine whispered into his ear with a smirk, "I like it. You should wear them more often."

Kurt turned around in Blaine's arms and pursed his lips teasingly, "Sorry, you don't exactly have the selection Reed does. I think I'll stick with his wardrobe."

To an outside observer their exchange may have seemed far too light and cheerful for their terrifying predicament, but they were Windsors, and Windsors were accustomed to insanity. Sure this new brand of insanity was more dangerous and morbid than what either of them had ever faced, but they adjusted to it quickly nonetheless. Besides, if they were going to have to live in a state of constant terror then why continue living at all?

"So what was my sweet prince doing this morning? A meeting?" Kurt asked noting Blaine was wearing his Dalton blazer. The boys had gotten into the comical habit of wearing their uniform jackets anytime they sat down to discuss something serious.

"Yeah I was conferring with Dwight and some others. He's been doing more research and wanted to share what he's found out."

"Which is what?" Kurt asked breaking away from his boyfriend's embrace and reaching for the door knob to his room.

"Not much." Blaine shrugged.

Kurt pushed open his door, looking over his shoulder to ask another question, "what sourc—"

Suddenly Blaine's eyes grew huge, wide expanses of white ringing his hazel irises, "Kurt!" he breathed with alarm as he pointed urgently into the room.

Kurt felt his blood turn cold as his eyes found what Blaine was pointing at: Reed Van Kamp.

The slight boy was facing the door as if waiting for them. His crop of god-like curls were streaked with thick burgundy liquid that dripped onto his face and rolled slowly down his fair skin like bloody tears. His hands too looked as if they had bathed in an ocean of blood.

Kurt raced across the room his heart beating furiously. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" Reed's eyes widened, their clear golden depths filled with bafflement at his friends panic.

"Your hands! Your face!" Kurt's hands fluttered uselessly as he tried to find some way to help the boy who looked like he was on the verge of bleeding to death.

Reed looked down at his hands in confusion as if he didn't see what Kurt was so concerned about.

"Reed is that your blood?" Blaine asked forehead wrinkled with anxiety.

"No I was painting." Reed replied matter-of-factly. His eyes grew big with comprehension as he realized the cause of Kurt's worry. "I do look like I'm bleeding don't I?" He raised his hands up to examine them in the light pouring in from the window. "That's a bit morbid." He shivered, then wiped his hands on the knee length smock he was wearing to protect his designer garments.

Kurt put a hand dramatically to his heaving chest, "Reed Van Kamp if you ever scare me like that again…"

"Sorry!" Reed smiled apologetically, "Chaz didn't have a job for me this morning so I thought I'd paint for a bit, you know, clear my mind."

Relieved that the shock was merely a miscommunication, Kurt turned to his dresser. He tugged Blaine's t-shirt off over his head and selected a clean one of his own. He had gotten the new shirt halfway over his head when Reed spoke again.

"Blaine, stop staring. It's not like you've never seen Kurt shirtless before."

"Hey a guy can't stare at his boyfriend anymore?"

"I would appreciate it if you didn't do it in my presence." Reed joked in a mockingly proper voice.

"I will if you stop staring at my brother in my presence." Blaine smirked.

Reed laughed, cheeks reddening, "Touché."

Blaine's phone vibrated and he dug it out of his pocket, _Hey bro, going on a rescue mission. Catch you later! – Shane _

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><p>The sun was excruciatingly bright overhead. Why was it so bright? Wasn't it always overcast and gloomy in scary movies, like it was pressing down on the victims, trapping them on Earth with these monsters? Instead it's brilliant rays made the bricks pleasantly warm against the tips of his fingers. Pleasant! How could he think of anything as pleasant right now?<p>

"Shane? Shane?" Chaz's voice was streaked through with worry. It snapped Shane out of his reverie. Startled, he jerked his head around to look at the boy who had placed a large hand on his back.

"You alright buddy?"

Shane's mouth was dry and he found it extremely difficult to swallow. He jerked his head up and down in a way he hope looked determined, if not confident.

"Great," the prefect's words were optimistic but his brows angled down in doubt, " 'cause we need you to be all there when we do this thing."

Shane nodded again, this time with a semblance of confidence, "Don't worry Charlie, I'm 100% here and ready."

Charlie smiled in a way that was too weak to touch his eyes. Shane could feel that the boy still had his reservations. He hated how at Dalton he was seen as Blaine's overemotional, irresponsible little brother. He was more than that. He was also more than just some love struck suitor chasing after the resident artist. Of course he didn't mind that everyone knew how he felt about Reed, but he wanted the Windsor boys to see that there's more to him. He was his own independent person, whose strengths outweighed his weaknesses and could contribute in this time of need. He may not be as put together as his older brother, but he was going to prove that he was a competent person, that's what this mission was for. Shane was finally going to have a chance to prove his mettle.

He focused back in on what Chaz was saying, "I'm going to climb up to meet Evan and Ethan. Once I'm half way up they are going to throw open the window and enter. That's when you start to climb."

Shane saluted, a gesture meant to show he comprehended his orders, which in hindsight he decided was sillier than he had intended.

With a brief clap on the shoulder and a reassuring "good luck" Charlie began to climb.

The sun beat fiercely on his face as he squinted up the side of the building. Chaz was making steady progress up the wall, his feet finding purchase in the grooves of the brick, and his arm muscles bulging as he hoisted up the rest of his body using a rope the Tweedles had attached to the window sill.

The Brightman twins were already at said window, balancing precariously on the tiny ledge and hugging the wall. They had already shimmied open the lock on the window and were ready to fling it open at any moment.

Shane took the coarse rope in his shaking hands. Every hair on his arms was stood up with fear and anticipation. An unidentifiable feeling of repulsion rested deep in his gut, as if his body could sense the horrific abominations on the other side of the wall.

A shout rang out above him like a starting pistol. Shane screwed up all the courage he could muster and with a determined breath began to scale the wall.

His arms straining with the weight of his own body, Shane thanked all that was good that he was a dancer. Every morning that he had been unable to lift his arms due to over working them the night before was suddenly worth it. His muscled burned and ached but he battled on, drawing closer and closer to that gaping hole through which the other three boys had already disappeared.

His feet were level with the ledge, and before he could take another breath or give himself time to think he dove through the window, the machete Dwight had given him clasped tightly.

The window through which they had come provided the only light in the room. Figures writhed in the twilight grey shadows. Shane blinked, forcing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. The first thing he saw was a legless corpse dragging itself across the ground with pale, decayed looking yet apparently strong, arms. It pulled itself slowly across the room lips pulled back in what Shane could only think was a manically excited expression. Its destination: Evan and Ethan Brightman. The Twin stood above another such monster. Pinned by the boys' feet but still alive (if it could be called that) the creature's head swiveled back and forth, teeth gnashing, and eyes dilated with blood lust. With a fell swoop Ethan brought his knife down and the zombie's head went rolling across the floor, finally still.

"You have to decapitate them!" Evan shouted.

His message was received by Charlie who was across the room hacking away at another monster. The human this zombie once was had to have been a huge jock for he towered over the burly and rather tall prefect. He was also far less decayed than the other monsters. His flesh the color of jaundice rather than the pale grey of death, and his limbs were still sinewy. He reached for Charlie's throat with a hulking arm (the other arm Charlie had managed to cut off and was laying limply on the floor). Stepping back Charlie swung his machete. The powerful blow cut clean through the monsters wrist and thick, dark blood began to ooze from the fresh wound. The injury did not deter the monster he charged at the boy teeth ripping through the air between them. He didn't even seem to notice when Charlie sunk his knife deep into the creature's chest. Chaz twisted the blade, attempting to dislodge it and strike again, but it was wedged in too deep and Charlie couldn't remove it, not without getting dangerously close to that hungry, flesh ravishing mouth.

Shane took his chance and with a guttural yell charged the beast. One powerful swing left the head lolling halfway off its neck. A second lopped it off completely and the huge corpse collapsed.

The room was silent aside from the heavy breathing of the four boys trying to grasp what had just happened and keep from retching.

"Thanks man." Charlie grunted extracting his knife from the body on the floor and wiping the gore off on some nearby curtains.

Knives out and eyes searching for the tiniest movement the boys moved forward with their plan. Charlie led them out of the small study room in which they had entered and down the hall. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when the hallway proved to be empty and rushed to the second door on the right.

The prefect tested the wood door with his hands, twisted the locked knob and examined the hinges, contemplating the quickest way to break in.

"Knock." The two whispers floated eerily in the still air of the hallway.

The sound of hand on hollow wood was almost startlingly loud and was followed immediately by a clattering from inside.

"Hello?" The Tweedles cooed through the door. "There's nothing to be scared of! We're human!" Their voices were surprisingly silky and reassuring.

The door didn't open.

"Who's in there?" Charlie asked deep creases appearing in his forehead.

"Chaz?" The sound was so feeble Shane wondered if he had heard it at all.

"Justin!" Charlie's cry was so unexpectedly vulnerable and genuinely relieved that Shane felt his heart jump into his throat.

There was the scraping of something heavy being slowly dragged across the floor. The boys in the hallway held their breath as the knob turned.

Justin Bancroft clung to the doorframe for support. His fair hair was disheveled and matted to his head. His uniformed looked as if it had been trampled on a couple dozen times. His face was deathly pale with sunken cheeks and eyes that looked like they had to struggle to actually see.

Charlie was at his side instantly, a strong muscular arm wrapped around his friend for support. Justin looked at his friend and suddenly the scared yet resolved expression broke and he fell into a million pieces on Chaz's shoulder. The sobs that wracked his feeble frame are so violent that Chaz was nearly knocked off his feet.

When Charlie spoke it was in a voice incredibly soft and comforting, like a verbal embrace. "It's okay, it's okay, you're going to be just fine now." Motioning for the others to follow him and grasping Justin tightly to his side he led them back down the hallway.

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><p>The grass was soft and warm and a little bit wet, but alive, wonderfully miraculously <em>alive<em>.

The escape from Hanover is a blur. Figuring out the safest way to lower Justin down, staying on look out as the other boys exit, and finally climbing down the rope himself as the sound of heavy foot falls approach from the hallway. It all happened so quickly that Shane really only remembered the urgency and the dread of not getting out fast enough.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of soil and vegetation that he had always taken for granted.

Evan and Ethan fling themselves on the grass next to him. "You alright Little Bat?" They ask, their blue eyes probing.

"Yeah." Shane replied rolling over to face them. "I'm just so freakin' glad to be out of there!"

They nodded in agreement and their gaze wandered to where Chaz and Justin sat a few yards away. Tears streaked both of their faces but the clouds of despair had left Justin's eyes and Charlie spoke with unexpected animation.

"Well," Evan continued brightly, "we killed our first zombies!"

"And I think the Dormouse will be very impressed when you come home a hero!"

Two elbows jabbed at Shane's sides and the gloriously alive laughter of the Twins rolled across the bright grounds of Dalton.

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><p><strong>Next Chapter: With so many people in the house Windsor's food supply can only last so long. Who will brave the zombie infested Dalton kitchens to replenish their stores?<strong>


	4. Chaos in the Kitchens

**A/N: Once again I own nothing. Kurt, Blaine, and the New Directions belong to Glee, any other character's Belong to CP Coulter.**

**Sorry, this chapter took longer than I thought it would.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>The gray light of morning filtered through the windows, fading colors and making Kurt and Reed's room a delicately muted version of its former brilliance. Everything looked a bit more elegant in this drained light; soft folds of downy comforters, smooth pages of open books, lustrous locks lying across fluffy pillows. With their acute appreciation for aesthetic beauty, Kurt Hummel and Reed Van Kamp would both have greatly appreciated the simple elegance of the dawn infused room.<p>

Unfortunately, both boys were utterly indisposed, and could not enjoy the splendor that was rare in such dark times. They slept soundly, their limbs splayed across their respective beds, their hair disheveled, and their rib cages expanding with deep breaths.

Of course, peace was always fleeting in Windsor house and the tranquil scene was interrupted by a jarring knock.

Reed's lashes fluttered but neither boy woke.

The knock came again, quick and sharp.

Kurt burrowed his head under his pillow, a sub conscious defense against consciousness. His roommate rolled over and opened his eyes, thoroughly ticked off by the abrupt awakening. "Who is it!" he demanded after a third knock. He hoped his voice carried all the annoyance he felt. If only he had Kurt's power of vocal inflection. Reed had always admired the drawling condescension that came so easily to his friend.

"Rachel Berry!" a voice answered, far to chipper for seven o'clock in the morning.

"Why?" Reed knew this wasn't the right response but it was far too early and his pillow was still temptingly close.

"I need to speak with Kurt." Her cheerful confidence was truly infuriating this early.

Reed picked up his extra pillow and chucked it at his roommate's sleeping form, "Kurt! Rachel wants to talk to you!"

A pair of sleep clouded cerulean eyes emerged from the piles of fluffy white blankets to glare at Reed under harshly angled brows.

"I was sleeping."

"No duh." Reed answered flatly and buried his face in his pillow, washing his hands of the whole business.

"Kurt!" Rachel was becoming impatient.

The boy extracted himself from the mounds of comfortable bedding and staggered across the room. "What can I do for you princess impatience?" Kurt asked, in the perfect tone of annoyance Reed had attempted to emulate, as he opened the door.

Rachel was all business. "As I'm sure you're aware Charlie recently appointed me Head of Domestic Resources, and may I say I think the position suites me perfectly, I was looking for something with—"

"Rachel cut to the chase." He snapped, twirling his hand in a way he hoped would move her toward the point of this rather unpleasant interruption.

"We are running out of food."

"What?" His jaw seemed to unhinge and hang loosely. After the days of trying to think of everything: defenses, job rotations weapons, they had somehow managed to overlook the most basic of human needs. He shook his head in disbelief, "How…"

"You boys consume food at a faster rate than the average herd of elephants." Kurt let out a small disbelieving laugh. "Well except you of course, but some of the boys here could consume their weight in food twice a day."

Rachel had a point, Wes and David's epic hamburger eating contest last semester had already made its way into Windsor legend.

"So Rachel why are you talking to me about this?"

"Well Charlie is busy taking care of Justin and Blaine seemed to be second in command so I figured I would try him." She finished with a matter-of-fact flourish.

Kurt gave her a withering look, "Let me get this straight. You need to talk to Blaine so you woke me up at seven in the morning?"

Rachel nodded, oblivious to Kurt's incredulity.

"You are aware that we are separate people?"

She nodded again.

"And we don't live in the same room, so knocking here isn't going to bring you in direct contact with him…"

Rachel's dark eyes squinted in her best "no shit" look which he had to admit she was quite good at.

"So why didn't you just go knock on _his_ door?"

Rachel shrugged her cardigan clad shoulders, bored with this line of questioning, "I figured this was faster."

Kurt raised his eyebrows in a combination of disbelief and reluctant amusement, "Fine," he said archly, pursing his lips, "but I'm not going to wake him up."

He retrieved his phone and followed as Rachel bounced buoyantly to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Rachel had made a comprehensive list of every food item contained in the Windsor kitchen. After a cursory glance, Kurt had to agree their supplies were meager at best. Worry beginning to crease the soft skin on the side of his eyes, he sent Blaine a quick text urging him to join them in the kitchen when he woke up.<p>

Much to Kurt's surprise, Blaine wandered into the kitchen mere minutes later.

"Hey guys." He rubbed his blood shot eyes and tried to smile genuinely but the expression came off as halfhearted.

Kurt felt a sympathy clench the muscles around his heart. Blaine's face was drawn and pale and lined with exhaustion and worry. He wanted to wrap the boy in his arms and kiss him until that happy carefree glow returned. Unfortunately, Rachel Berry was still in the room.

Rachel lost no time filling Blaine in with a lecture like speech and punctuated hand movements.

Blaine's worry lines deepened. He nodded thoughtfully and promised he would call a meeting as soon as everyone was awake.

She smiled apparently satisfied, "Well if you need any more from me I will be in the attic taking stock of our extra bedding." And with a swish of her skirts she flounced away leaving Kurt and Blaine alone at last.

Kurt would have known something was wrong even if he hadn't seen the heavy purple bruises and deep etched creases; he could feel the fatigue and worry seeping from Blaine's body. It was the little movements, the way he seemed to blink heavier and slower, the stiffness in his neck and jaw that Kurt couldn't quite pin point, but noticed all the same.

"Blaine what is it?" his voice was low and comforting yet gently probing.

Blaine let his tired hazel eyes meet Kurt's. He opened his mouth planning on answering with an altruistic "nothing", but looking at Kurt he knew the boy was far too perceptive and knew him far too well to be fooled by any fallacy he would attempt.

He sighed, "I didn't sleep last night."

"At all?" Blaine hated the way Kurt's brow furrowed in distress.

Blaine's curls flopped sadly as he nodded his head. "It was just all the noise." He looked down at the streaks of sunlight across the tiles. The warm golden glow was as reassuring as the darkness of night was frightening.

Kurt's mind flashed back to the previous night: the barrage of violent hands hammering on windows and doors, the screeches of nails being torn from wood and the hungry cries of those monsters who hunted them. Last night had been the worst yet with as many as fifteen of the abominations testing their defenses throughout the night.

Kurt wrapped his hand around Blaine's, "They couldn't have gotten in last night our defenses are still too strong for them in small numbers."

"I know." Blaine hung his head again, he felt so stupid for being afraid, so juvenile for letting his fear take over to the point that he couldn't sleep. His courage apparently didn't extend to sub-natural beings. "The sound itself is bad enough. It just makes me feel like… like I am completely alone and that no matter how hard we try we are going to end up eaten by those things." He spat out the last word with a mix of revulsion and fright.

"Oh Blaine!" Kurt's arms were wrapped around the boy in an instant. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut as tears trickled down his face, but Kurt's arms were blessedly warm around his neck.

"Why didn't you come get me?" Kurt whispered into Blaine's tangle of curls.

"I knew you needed your sleep. You worked so hard yesterday covering Charlie's job while he took care of Justin. I knew how tired you were."

Kurt firmly planted on either of Blaine's shoulders, forcing the boy to look him in the eye. "Blaine Anderson," he said in a steady yet compassionate tone, "you are more important to me than any amount of sleep. I would rather be sleepless for a year than know that there was one night in which I could have been there for you and wasn't." His big honest eyes were so mesmerizing Blaine couldn't look away.

"Come on," Kurt smiled sweetly, finally breaking eye contact as he stood. "Let's see what's left for breakfast."

As Blaine watched his boyfriend bustle around the kitchen he reflected on just how lucky he was to have him in his life.

* * *

><p>Two hours later found Blaine trying his best to quiet the occupants of Windsor, who were all crammed into the common room.<p>

"I now call this meeting to order." Blaine stated fingering the lapels of his Dalton jacket. The ruckus continued and not an ear leaned in his direction. "Guys, come on!" The conversations gave no sign of quieting.

Kurt nodded reassuringly as Blaine looked at him, his communicative eyes pleading. Kurt made a short rolling motion with his hand encouraging Blaine on.

"We need to talk about food!" Whether it was the fact Blaine had raised his voice into a yell, or the mention of food, the crowd snapped into attention.

"What about food?" Wes asked eagerly, his faced turned toward Blaine but his body still angled toward Santana.

"We're running out." A murmur traveled through the room. Mercedes's jaw dropped, Reed dropped the thankfully empty glass he was holding, Mike Chang nearly fell off his perch on the back of the couch, and David clasped a hand over his mouth.

"You've got to be kidding." Lauren spluttered her face twisted in disbelief.

"I'm afraid not." Blaine shrugged raising his hands as if to show them he had no control over the situation.

Rachel stood up, brushing off her skirt and lifting a clip board in front of her. "I'm afraid my fellow survivors that Blaine is right. As of this morning we have…" She turned her eyes to the clipboard clearly intending to begin a laundry list of the content of their pantry.

Finn tugged on her skirt sheepishly, "Hey Rach I think Blaine's got this one."

The girl shot the boy in question a quizzical look and when he nodded she sat down with a disappointed huff. "If anyone would like to see the list it will be in my room."

Blaine smiled kindly at her. "Thank you Rachel." He turned back to the group, "Now we need to decide what exactly we should do."

Puck jumped to his feet, "We have knives right? Weapons? What lives around here? Deer? Squirrels? I've killed enough wildlife in my day, it's not that hard." He searched around for a gung-ho response but only found aghast faces.

"We appreciate your enthusiasm Puck but I don't think we are exactly the hunter gatherer sort." Puck returned to his seat with a disappointed shrug.

"McDonalds!" Wes interjected, "there's one maybe half a mile away and that place has got to have enough frozen and preserved food to last months."

Quinn pursed her lips in her famous look of dainty disgust, "I understand that food isn't going to be exactly easy to come by," her voice was sweet but carried a more threatening undertone, "but couldn't we find something that won't numb or brains with processed chemicals and make our waistlines expand three sizes?"

Blaine nodded thoughtfully, "Sorry Wes. Quinn is right. We need something better and hopefully something more than frozen hamburger patties."

"A grocery store then!" David suggested waving a dapper hand in relish.

Chaz shook his head disapprovingly, "The nearest one is a mile!"

"We have cars!"

Reed shrieked as Dwight appeared to materialize at his elbow, "We can't go in a building we are not familiar with. By this time zombies with have permeated every dark building. Knowing every escape route may be our greatest defense." He shook his head and the amulets around his neck clanked ominously, "I have cast my ancient whale bones, any venture to an unfamiliar destination will go horribly astray."

A heavy silence settled on the floor. Evan and Ethan, wedged in the same chair, nodded. Wes and David likewise hung their heads considering the danger of such a journey.

Santana glanced around the room with disgust dancing in her dark eyes. She was unable to keep feisty condescension from her voice as she said her piece, "I know you fancy prep boys are trying to be all logical and safe and shit, but I'm gonna keep it real right now: we are going to need food. Either we risk our asses to go get it or we stay here and start eating each other just like those zombies out there." She pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side for emphasis.

Brittany looked from Santana to Blaine with baleful eyes, "My stomach's been crying for hours, and i can't feed it any more tissues."

Kurt squinted his eyes in confusion and spoke carefully to the clearly upset girl, "Brittany you do know that we haven't run out of food yet? We've been eating three meals a day…"

She shrugged and looked blankly back at him, "I' not a warbler I can't survive on bird food."

The New Directions, thinking nothing of Brittany's outburst looked back to Blaine and Santana shot death glares at the Windsor boys until they did the same.

Blaine cleared his voice looking from upturned face to upturned face, "Kurt and I have been discussing a plan which will keep us away from the danger Dwight has foreseen." He shot a small smile at Kurt, "As you know we do have a cafeteria on campus, a cafeteria which will be stocked with enough food for about two weeks, if not more."

An approving murmur went around the room. Chaz shook his head, wondering why this plan hadn't occurred to him.

"So we are going to need to elect a team, of about five people, big enough to get the job done quickly but not too big to be in each other's way. Volunteers?"

The Tweedle's hands shot up automatically, their fingers stretching toward the ceiling with determined enthusiasm.

After a moment of hesitation Wes and David's hands joined theirs.

"Alright it looks like we have our first four—"

"Blaine," Finn stood up on impulse, face determined.

"Yes, Finn?"

Finn almost looked as if he was going to shrink from whatever he had intended to say but with an effort he screw up his courage and plowed ahead, "You guys have been really great to us." He gestured to the scattered members of New Directions, "and we should take a bigger part in – in—"he struggled for words, "keeping everyone alive. So I would like to help on this mission."

Puck jumped up, seeing his cue, "Me too, we're gonna need some man power if we wanna send those little zombie freaks crying back to the gates of hell." He smirked.

Blaine raised his eyebrows, surprised but definitely approving. "So it looks like we have—"

"Blaine Warbler, I'm gonna go to." All eyes in the room fixed on Brittany. She smiled pleasantly as if she had just offered to bring cupcakes to a rather enjoyable picnic.

"Brittany, are you sure that is a good idea…"

"Yes." She answered simply and became engrossed with the Warbler jacket she was for some reason wearing.

Santana eventually talked Brittany out of her plan. ("Brit you can't even kill a spider." "Of course not, what would the little spider babies do without a mommy?"). She also insisted on taking Brittany's place.

The group was now too large and so Wes and David opted to stay behind and repair last night's damage instead. Only a vehicle was left to be desired.

"And we should have a driver, just in case you know something happens and we need to get away quick or something."

"I have a truck," Todd offered, "and I would be more than willing to drive, but," he glanced at his roommate, "I promised Dwight I would help him with some stuff."

The room was silent for a minute waiting for another volunteer.

Kurt let out an impatient exhale, "Fine. I'll play chauffeur."

The spasm that flitted across Blaine's face went unnoticed. He stifled it as quickly as he could. Kurt could take care of himself, and he wasn't even going to be doing the dangerous job. Still, he couldn't stop the swooping fear settling at the bottom of his stomach.

The group was selected, the car was ready, and all that was left was for the newly selected adventurers to go through Dwight's customary zombie precautions. He equipped them with four knives and three holey-water-blessed baseball bats (one for Kurt to keep in the truck in case of emergency. Then he gave them a brief ominous lecture on how best to fight and kill an attacker ("use bats to keep them at bay, knives to kill. Always aim for the neck, and _never _let one get its arms around you"). Soon he deemed them fit to proceed and they piled into Todd's truck anxious but ready for action.

* * *

><p>Kurt drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He wasn't exactly sure why a getaway drive was necessary. It wasn't like a horde of hungry zombies were going to come rushing out into the glaring sunlight. At least he hoped not… they had seemed to avoid the sun thus far.<p>

He fiddled with the trinkets hanging from the rear-view mirror. There was a classic pine air freshener, a string of green mardi gras beads, and an ornate rosary of some sort. Kurt looked at the last object, he had seen it before.

The warm afternoon air drifted lazily through the window, Kurt couldn't help but think about how he had only had four hours of sleep and his eyes began to slowly fall shut.

* * *

><p>Finn marveled at how quickly the two "kinda creepy identical dudes" were able to pick the lock on the door behind the cafeteria. Before he knew it, their little reconnaissance party was inside and wrapped in complete darkness. They blinked, trying to adjust to the shadowy world they had entered. Vague shapes began to form and as they crept across the room towards the murky doorway on the other side of the room.<p>

The Tweedles took the lead. They were familiar with the floor plans of the kitchens. They had lost count of how many times they had wandered through these rooms, sometimes to gather snacks, other times just for the hell of it. Their companions followed, blades and bats poised to strike at the slightest movement.

"What's that smell?" Finn wanted to cover his nose as the door swung open fanning waves of putrid air towards them, but he swallowed the urge, keeping his hands firmly on his bat.

Puck coughed, "It reeks like the guys locker room on Fridays after it hasn't been cleaned all week," He spat trying to banish the nasty flavor of the air from his mouth, "and if something died in it." He added for good measure.

"Shhh," Evan and Ethan shot the boys twin glares.

Evan felt along the wall and bracing himself flipped the switch.

There was no way to prepare them for the sight that met their eyes. Eight monsters were strewn about the room, statue still in a sleep like stupor, the rotting flaps of their eyelids pulled over the yellowing eyeballs. However, the most gruesome part, the source of the stomach turning stench, were the numerous piles of bones stained with blood and strung with shreds of rotting flesh.

As the light bulbs flickered on the beasts moaned and senseless hands raised to block the offending light. One by one they stopped the aggravated groping and tilted their faces toward the door, noses first.

Santana sucked in a breath of rancid air and fear rushed through her veins as the zombie closest to them snapped open its eyes. "Shit."

The curse was as good as a battle cry, for the kitchen was suddenly a flurry of action.

The first zombie hardly had time to take a staggering step forward before the Brightmans closed in. Their swings were precise. The blades slid easily through decaying flesh, severing head from body.

Santana let out a blood curdling shriek and charged at the monster to her right, raven hair whipping behind her. The first blow was too high and left a gouge in the sunken cheek. The next swing hit its target, so did the next, and the next. After three violent hacks the threat was disposed of.

Puck, who had followed on Santana's heels with a heavy baseball bat gripped in his powerful hands, was beating another zombie to the wall. A death like hand clutched at his shoulder and with unexpected strength pulled him backwards. Puck spun around. There was a loud crunch as his bat met with the zombies jaw and it swung sideways, unhinged. Puck's next swing was powerful enough to send the zombie backwards against the counter and he turned back to his original opponent who was again approaching from the other side.

Finn stood in the door way, hands shaking as they grasped the baseball bat and two monsters stumbled at him, teeth gnashing and dead eyes rolling with infernal hunger. His blows were swift and powerful, the zombies were sent sprawling onto the linoleum floor. Undeterred they crawled towards him like hell-sent vermin.

Puck pulled the knife from his belt and the head of his victim hit the floor with a squelch.

Evan and Ethan had split up. As efficient apart as together, their opponents were soon heaps of decomposing flesh.

Santana took a swing at one of the zombies crawling toward Finn, she removed a foot but the creature did not as much as look back. Finn wacked the beast backwards and she saw her chance. Rotting hands clawed the air for a moment before the knife sliced through the spongy skin ushering the monster to its final rest.

Puck dealt a lethal blow to his attacker and passed his blade off to Finn, who struck downward with a deadly swoop and lopped off the last zombie's head.

Everything was now still. The five companions scanned the room, taking in the collapsed bodies, scattered bits of flesh, and decapitated heads.

"Shit."

* * *

><p>The sun beat down on the back of their necks as the three boys trekked across Dalton's expansive lawns. Bee-lining for the truck, which gleaned in the hot summer sun, they walked swiftly, but something in their stride spoke of misery. The eyed the vehicle wearily, but nothing within moved.<p>

They were about four yards away when the tallest boy caught his breath. He recognized that head of perfectly manicured hair drooped forward onto the steering wheel. "No." The symbol burst forth on frightened breath and he rushed heedlessly toward the car. "Not Kurt, not Kurt." The words were helpless, desperate.

"Logan." One of the companions warned jogging to keep up. Julian Larson shook his disheveled locks, Logan never heeded his warnings.

Logan gripped the edge of the half opened window and peered inside.

"Logan get away he might be –"

At that moment, Kurt jerked his head up, disoriented. Had he been asleep? Suddenly his eyes landed on the face pressing in through the window and he screamed, hands groping for the baseball bat on the seat next to him.

"Kurt it's alright." Logan's voice stopped Kurt's frantic searching.

"Logan? You're not…"

Logan shook his head and opened the car door, "Not at all." His piercing green eyes scanned Kurt eagerly. "I can't believe you're alive, I thought we were the last."

Kurt looked over Logan's shoulder to see the shocked faces of Baily and Julian gapping at him. His eyes wandered down to the highly polished revolver Julian held at his side. It was a sign of a times that Kurt didn't wonder why Julian had a revolver at a school where possession of a weapon was immediate expulsion but instead noted that such a weapon would do no good against the monsters that lurked in the buildings of Dalton.

"Have you been living here?" Logan eyed the truck.

"In here? Heavens no! We're all still living in Windsor."

"We?"

Kurt nodded, "Most of Windsor house and all of New Directions are staying there."

Logan's jaw dropped and his eye brows disappeared into the tangle of hair that hung down to cover his forehead.

Kurt took in Logan's appearance. His clothes were worn and dirty, his usually gelled hair was a matted mess, and he looked exceptionally pale, with rather sunken eyes. His usually defined cheek bones jutted out with skeletal prominence. The other two boys looked much the same and Kurt deduced that they had not bathed, eaten, or even slept in the past few days.

They settled themselves in the sliver of shade thrown by the truck and Kurt began to barrage them with questions.

"Where have you been staying?"

"A room on the first floor of Stuart. The rest of the building is infested."

"Are you the only…"

Logan nodded, his lips pressed in a tight line.

"Derek?"

Logan's eyes started to water again and he shook his head.

"He transformed?"

A wail erupted from Baily and Logan seemed unable to speak. "He would have," whispered Julian, "but they were too… hungry."

Kurt felt a chill go down his spine, "I'm so sorry."

They sat in silence for a few moments then Kurt said the words they were aching to hear, "Come stay in Windsor."

The gratitude and relief that oozed from them was almost tangible

* * *

><p>The group had gotten quickly to the task at hand; locating trash bags, they hastily stuffed them with all the food they could lay their hands on.<p>

Finn and Puck had been rather shocked when they opened up the refrigerators and found what they deemed "real" food.

Puck stared wide eyed, "Toto, I don't think we're in public school anymore."

Santana laughed sardonically.

"What? I like that movie."

"Right." Her voice dripped with cynicism, "come help me carry these bags outside Dorothy."

The pair trundled out of the kitchen, the first of many bulging bags thrown over their shoulders.

Finn emerged from the pantry with two more freshly filled trash bags, stuffed with boxes of crackers, bags of flour, packages of pasta, and tins of vegetables, "Hey guys where should I—", but Evan and Ethan were distracted by a figure shuffling through the door.

Finn caught his breath, _not another one_. Closer to the beast than the Twins, he reacted on instinct. He lunged for a machete discarded on the counter. Before he could reach it he tripped over a detatched zombie head, the trash bags clutched in his right hand threw him off balance and he went flying into the refrigerator. With a deafening boom the appliance fell and Finn staggered back onto his feet, still grasping the food tightly.

He looked around dazed as Evan and Ethan began to applaud.

"Well done!"

"Brava!"

"Brilliant!"

Finn was utterly bemused until he spotted the zombie pinned under the felled fridge, only its ghastly head and shoulders protruding.

Ethan cuffed him on the arm, "You sir make zombie slaying an art."

Finn gaped at him, eyes wide with shock, "I didn't even mean to!"

The Twins' laughter echoed through the kitchen, "We must have a prodigy on our hands." Evan grinned with the same disconcerting enthusiasm.

"What the…" Santana stood at the door way taking in the scene. She stepped forward raising her knife to finish of the zombie snapping at their feet.

"Hold on you moment warrior princess," the Brightmans chirruped. The girl stopped her swing half way to the zombie's throat and looked up confused. "We would like to experiment with something."

There was a flurry of movement and before anyone really knew what they were doing Evan was holding a flaming roll of paper towels.

A furious howling moan came from the monster trapped beneath the fridge. It thrashed its head from side to side, vicious, lipless mouth snarling, dead eyes rolling into its head. Its movements sped up, becoming violently desperate as the orange flame was brought closer.

Tendrils of flame licked the beast's forehead and spread almost instantaneously through its body. The blaze engulfed the shrunken decomposing head, traveled across the shaking shoulders, and judging from the flames under the fridge, burned the rest of the body.

After no more than thirty seconds the flames died, leaving nothing but a pile of ash and a the echoes of blood chilling howls.

They wasted no time getting back to the food.

* * *

><p>Kurt hummed to himself as he padded night cream on his face. Today had been odd to say the least.<p>

He thought back on his chance meeting with Logan and couldn't help being thankful that they had come across the group of forlorn survivors. It was apparent that the weary boys were happy to again be with people in a secure house now well stocked with food. Granted, Logan wasn't very happy when Santana greeted him with a baseball bat to the stomach (she had thought he was a zombie) but the rest of the survivors had welcomed them with open arms, all house rivalries aside.

He screwed the cap on tightly. A suddenly jarring rattle shook the walls. He dropped the container and it clattered onto the vanity. _It's started, _Kurt shivered as disquieting moans seeped in through the walls. He tried to ignore the goose bumps on his arms as he arranged his collection of toiletries.

There was a soft knock on the door.

Kurt stood up, glanced at Reed already asleep with a pillow pulled over his head, and tip toed to the door.

Golden light pierced the dimness of Kurt's room as he cracked open the door. Blaine peered in, pleading eyes as big as the moon. A hopeful look flashed across his face as he beheld Kurt, but he quickly revered his gaze to the carpeted floor, flushing with chagrin.

"Hey Kurt," His voice was hardly a whisper, "I was thinking about what you said earlier…" He didn't have to continue. Kurt's hand found his, and with a smile full of understanding and compassion, he led Blaine back across the hall.

"Where's Shane?" Kurt shut the door with a muted click.

"Night watch."

A loud crash of hands pummeling wood broke the momentary silence and Blaine jumped.

"Come here." Kurt murmured soothingly, pulling the boy close. It felt like ages since he had been able to hold Blaine and enjoy the warmth of their bodies pressed together. Blaine locked his arms around Kurt's waist flinching as a guttural howl sounded outside. Kurt tilted his head down to nestle in Blaine's hair and did something else that he hadn't done in ages.

_Turn out the lights  
>kiss pillow goodnight<br>kill the sun but leave the other stars on_

He hadn't sung in days, but the words floated easily from his mouth and hung in the air around them, a buffer to keep the frightening, lonely world at bay.

_It'll all be okay  
>soon as all this noise fades<br>close your eyes and soon it'll all be gone_

He pressed his cheek to the top of Blaine's head and closed his eyes. Muscle by muscle Blaine began to relax in his arms, melting into the embrace.

_Sometimes I feel like a little boy again  
>I wanna hide underneath my blankets all day<br>and the shadows on the wall are some of my closest friends  
>you've got everything to feel and nothing to say<em>

Blaine had never heard this song sung quite like this. It was slow and deliberate. The soothing melody seemed to wrap around him as comforting and as tangible as Kurt's arms.

Slowly they began to sway; dipping in and out of the splotches of silver moon light that pained the two beautiful boys in an ethereal glow.

_I'll be alright_

_I just need the quiet  
>I don't wanna be out there anymore<br>_

Gently untangling their arms Kurt pulled away. Cool air rushed between their bodies and Blaine let out a protesting sound. But Kurt wasn't leaving him. With gentle assurance he led the boy to the bed.

_Please don't wake me  
>my world is finally fading<br>gone away to the way it was before  
><em>

They curled up on top of the blankets their foreheads together. Kurt's lips were nearly touching Blaine's as he continued to sing and his sweet smelling breath played across Blaine's cheeks.

_Sometimes i feel like a little boy again_

Kurt rested an arm protectively over Blaine.

_I dream of popsicle rockets i can fly to the moon_

Kurt kissed Blaine deeply but with so much gentle care that Blaine felt the last of his tension vanishing.

Kurt pulled away to finished the song.

_Sometimes i never wanna open my eyes again  
>hold the night for morning's coming soon<em>

"I love you Blaine Anderson." Kurt murmured.

"I love you too Kurt."

Blaine watched as Kurt's eyelids grew heavy and drooped shut. The hushed sighs of Kurt's rhythmic breathing drowned out the sounds that sent ice through Blaine's veins as he watched the gentle rise and fall of Kurt's ribs.

Kurt curled up tighter and snuggled his into Blaine's chest. Blaine felt warmth spread from the points where their bodies touched. He wrapped himself around the boy and planted a soft kiss on the top of Kurt's head.

Kurt's voice was a sleep laden whisper but Blaine heard it as clearly as the sighs of his breath, "I'll never let them get you."

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter: Windsor's defenses have been strong enough so far, but how much longer will they hold?<strong>


	5. Fight and Flight

**Sorry this took so long, Harry Potter happened.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or these characters**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

><p>Blaine hovered on threshold between sleeping and waking. He rolled over, semi-aware of the soft pillow beneath his head but still only seeing the blackness of unconsciousness. In a dream-like state his arm reached out blindly for the boy that had fallen asleep next to him. His fingertips brushed the cold indent where Kurt had lain beside him. Suddenly Blaine was wide awake.<p>

He blinked rapidly and squinted through the dim morning light until he spotted the scrunched up form pressed against the wall on the other side of the bed. He debated with himself; touching Kurt might wake him, and he should get some more sleep. Then again, Kurt could be a pretty heavy sleeper… and he did enjoy sleeping with Blaine's arm around him, so he said. Blaine took a deep breath, and hoping he wasn't being selfish, scooted over to where Kurt lay and draped an arm over the boy's curled up form.

Kurt sighed lightly; to Blaine the sound was purer and more beautiful than an angel breathing. Still deeply asleep, Kurt rolled over and snuggled into his boyfriend's side, sighing again as the slightest hint of a smile traced across his lips.

* * *

><p>Tina watched as Mike pulled a T-shirt over his perfectly sculpted abs. She sighed and bent down to lace up the ankle boots she had borrowed from Kurt and Reed's closet. "Mike do you think we're ever going to get out of this?"<p>

He looked up at her, his obsidian eyes emanating that ever present reassurance, "Of course… well… eventually." He added his voice losing a bit of its confidence.

"Really?"

He sat on the bed next to her and ran a hand through her long dark hair. "I think we have to keep hoping that we will in the end."

"And what do we do in the mean time?"

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, "Survive."

* * *

><p>Wes stumbled into his room bleary eyed and ridiculously tired.<p>

"How was night watch?" David asked looking up from tying his shoes.

Wes grumbled noncommittally and collapsed on the bed fully clothed.

David laughed softly and sat down next to Wes helpfully slipping off the boy's shoes. "That bad huh?"

The fatigued boy rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow, "Actually yeah… there are so many out there now. They're doing some serious damage and I'm not sure if our defenses are going to be able to hold up much longer, even with daily repairs." David's forehead wrinkled in concern as his best friend continued, "We're running out of wood to replace the boards they've torn down, the 'surround Windsor with fire' plan was a fiasco…" He trailed off shaking his head sadly.

David rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, they needed something to change, and they needed it to change now. "Get some sleep." He patted Wes on the back, "You need it, and maybe when you wake up we can brainstorm, if we try hard enough there's no way we can be beat by a horde of mindless dead bodies."

He summoned up all his optimism to give Wes an encouraging smile and flicked off the light on his way out the door.

* * *

><p>It took Shane a moment to realize what woke him up. The room was quiet aside from the muffled sound of footsteps and voices from the hallway outside. Then it came again, wild thrashing and then a whimper: Reed.<p>

He jumped out of bed hurriedly, yet graceful, and was across the room in a heartbeat. Reed was shaking on the bed, his slender form heaving with rapid, frightened breathing. White blankets were twisted around him like a strait jacket as he thrashed, trying to escape from some subconscious terror.

"Reed!" Shane shook the boy's shoulder gently and then harder when he remained asleep. "Reed."

A slender arm gained freedom and shot up with the speed of a rocket to hit Shane squarely in the jaw. "Ow!" the boy grunted staggering backwards clutching his face.

Reed opened his eyes and looked around startled, "Shane? Shane!" He looked from his still raised hand to the red splotch that had blossomed across Shane's jaw. "I'm sorry!" He tried to run to Shane but only managed to topple off the bed becoming even more entangled in his blankets.

After a few seconds of flailing and colliding hands the boys were both safely on the bed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Reed couldn't help reiterating as his hands fluttered uselessly in front of him.

Shane laughed and waved away his apology, "I'm fine. Good thing you used your left arm, if it had been your right one I'm sure you would have broken my jaw!" he joked, hoping Reed would realize his jest was meant as a compliment not a guilt trip. "Are you okay?"

Reed's golden eyes widened with surprise, "Me? I'm the one who just punched you in the face!"

"You were thrashing around in your sleep. You were all tangled up and you were making these really sad whimpering sounds…" Shane trailed off figuring a detailed description was unwanted.

Comprehension fluttered across Reed's face, "Oh, yeah I was just having a nightmare. Nothing to worry about. I get them almost every night, but I'm pretty sure almost everyone here does," he shrugged. He wished Shane wouldn't worry so much about him; it wasn't that big of a deal.

When he looked up he was expecting to find lines of worry but instead found a slack jawed expression of awe. "Shane, are you alright."

"Reed," he breathed utterly awestruck, "Do you realize like a week ago you would have been scared shitless of a nightmare like that. Sorry." He apologized quickly as Reed wrinkled his nose at what Shane knew he considered 'tasteless vocabulary'.

"So?"

"That's so – you're so—" for once Shane Anderson seemed at a loss for words, his jaw worked up and down as he tried to express how amazed he was by how much Reed had grown and how proud he was of how strong he had become, but Shane had never been very eloquent, especially with those huge golden eyes gazing at him and causing his heart to palpitate. Instead he acted on impulse and pulled the smaller boy close to his body.

At one point Reed would have protested the closeness, but his confusion about his sexuality seemed insignificant when contrasted with a zombie apocalypse. All he knew was that being with Shane made him happy, and in these dark times why should he extinguish the one small flicker of joy in his life? With these thoughts racing through his mind he pulled away, not to escape from the embrace but so he could plant a kiss squarely on the other boy's lips.

Shane forgot to breathe, he forgot how to breathe. "Reed!" he gasped as the boy pulled away.

"Yeah?" The boy smirked coyly, feeling a bit shy after his burst of confidence.

Shane shook his head as if trying to wake himself from a dream, "You're amazing you know that?"

Attempting to hide his blush, Reed stood up and stepped quickly across the room (almost tripping over the heaped blankets). He reached the door and throwing a daring look back at Shane extended his hand. "Let's go see if they need help with breakfast."

Shane was at his side instantly and staring rather confusedly at Reed's hand.

"Are you gonna hold it or what?"

Shane looked as if Christmas had just come early and the two skipped down the hall beaming like fools.

* * *

><p>"Do you get the impression that these boys don't have a clue what they're doing?" Julian slid further back on the counter fiddling with the piece of toast in his hands.<p>

"Of course they don't, but they're doing a hell of a lot better than we were," Logan snapped back.

"I would just think that with so many of them someone would have figured out some plan of escape. We've been here three days and the only new idea they've tried is circling the building in fire at night which failed miserably."

"We don't even know if there is somewhere to escape to! And after all they have done for us I can't believe you are being so fucking ungrateful!" Logan growled, his hands flexing into fists at his side.

The insolent bitchiness washed away from Julian, he hadn't meant any of it. He was just so used to complaining about everything that it was a hard habit to kick.

"I'm sorry Lo." He slid off the counter and placed a tentative hand on the boy's shoulder, "I didn't mean it."

Logan felt the anger ebb away as a wave of confusion washed over him. He never knew how to act when Julian was like this. When he stopped biting back and his words became soft and kind. These incidents had been happening more and more often and Logan couldn't figure out why.

At that moment the kitchen door swung open and Reed and Shane tripped in beaming, hands grasped tightly between them. That was odd, Logan thought – well the world had officially turned on its head. Logan didn't know why he tried to make sense of things any more.

The boys greeted them with a creepily cheerful good morning and began to prepare breakfast.

Julian gazed wistfully at the way their fingers lingered for just a moment before breaking apart. His eyes darted to Logan's face. If that shy artist and the Anderson boy could find love at a time like this maybe there was still hope…

* * *

><p>"Do you want me to go make us another pot of coffee?" Todd asked, watching the way Dwight rubbed at his eyes with a tired hand,<p>

"No." the hunter answered determinedly as he set down another book.

"Well maybe we should stop for now. We've been up all night." His eyes searched his roommate. Dwight's usual baggy clothes hung loser, his face looked thinner, and signs of sleep deprivation were smudged beneath his eyes.

The boy shrugged and his amulets clanked together, "You can get some sleep if you want, I'm going to keep working."

Todd stayed in his position in the middle of the large salt circle Dwight had made for them, if Dwight was going to work himself to exhaustion he shouldn't have to do it alone.

Dwight picked up another dusty tome and leafed through the pages. They had looked through these books what felt like hundreds of times, searching for any morsel of information they had missed, but the search was fruitless.

There was a sudden crash of metal followed by a small squeak. Dwight jumped up and raced to a dark corner of his room faster than a vampire confronted with garlic. He came back holding a small metal trap.

"Finally!" Todd stood up to watch as Dwight dumped the small rodent into a large glass aquarium.

Dwight looked at the rat, his mouth a serous line. He turned to a nearby shelf and retrieved a syringe and a glass jar that contained a hunk of what looked like bloody flesh.

"Dwight is that?" Todd's eyes widened as his roommate nodded stiffly, "How did you?" Dwight shook his head and Todd knew it would be pointless to question further.

Dwight plunged the syringe into the flesh and Todd watched as the tube filled with reddish black blood. With a reluctant sigh the hunter stabbed the rat with the needle. "I hate to make an innocent animal into such deplorable, demonic filth but it's the only way we can learn more," and he fitted the lid on the aquarium as the rat started to stagger drunkenly around the cage.

* * *

><p>"I don't want to look," she whimpered.<p>

"Then don't, it's fine, I'll check."

"No, no. I'll look too."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "On the count of three?" He knew it seemed silly but the counting was as much for him as the shaking girl next to him. "One… two… three."

Their eyes flew open in unison and they stared into the gaping window.

A figure of what was once a man stood near the back wall. Its shoulders were slightly hunched, its arms hung heavy as his sides, and its head jutted out as if the whole body were guided by that revolting, hungry mouth. The skin was pallid and waxen and large sections had peeled away exposing more grey flesh and white bones. The monster's facial features were oddly smashed and misshapen as though they had been bludgeoned with a bat. The hair once so thick and curl was mostly gone, the last few strands hung limply from the liver spotted skull. In short, there was no way that Mike and Tina would have recognized Mr. Schue if they had not known without a doubt that this creature was him.

The monster opened its yellowing eyes and snarled.

Mike and Tina leapt away from the window. They righted themselves a few yards away, breathing heavily.

"Well he's still alive…?" Mike flinched at using the word in this context but couldn't think of a suitable replacement.

Tina shook, trying to dispel the horror that has settled in the pit of her stomach and made her feel like vomiting.

This was their first time doing the daily check on Mr. Schue. Dwight had decided the job was a necessity, both to ensure he hadn't escaped and to see how long the monsters would survive without a food source. So far Mr. Schue wasn't showing any signs of slowing down.

Tina now understood the ashen faces and trembling lips of the people who returned from this duty, and why it warranted a day off from other responsibilities. She rubbed her eyes hopping to rub away the ghastly face burned into her retinas.

"You don't think they'll mind if we take a little break do you?" Mike said eyeing the shade of a nearby tree.

Tina shook her head and took her boyfriend's hand gratefully.

They pushed their way through the long tendril-like branches that swept nearly to the ground. Under the tree it was almost like twilight.

The stretched out side by side on the grass. Their eye lids fluttered shut before they could see the flurry of yellow feathers above their heads.

* * *

><p>Kurt hated visiting the first floor at night. Hearing the pounding of zombie hands coming from every side, only kept at bay by a few planks of wood and flimsy walls was enough to make someone petrified with terror.<p>

He rushed quickly down the stairs, and straight to the kitchen. He would never have come down here of his own volition but Blaine was getting a migraine and no matter how much he protested and tried to keep Kurt up stairs Kurt did not want him to have to suffer through that unmedicated.

He was pulling the medicine basket out of a cupboard when a cough behind him made him jump. He spun around, pill bottle grasped tightly in his hand.

"S-Sorry," Finn spluttered, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Finn!" Kurt put a shaking hand to his chest as he attempted to catch his breath. "What are you doing down here?"

The taller boy looked sheepishly down at his feet, "I got really, really hungry."

Kurt's laugh sounded strained and was mostly drowned out by the shrieking moans that erupted outside.

"How are you?" Finn blurted suddenly as is face screwed up into an expression that resembled concern.

Kurt was taken aback, "Fine, well as fine as anyone could be right now, sure I could complain about what the lack of sleep is doing to my skin, but at this point I think we have much bigger concerns."

Finn nodded slowly, processing Kurt's response, "Good. I never really get to see you, well I see you but you know you're always so busy being in charge of stuff and I'm always building or something…"

Kurt smiled fondly at his stepbrother. He knew Finn well enough to understand that this type of stammered explanation was often the way the boy expressed genuine concern. Kurt however was not expecting Finn's arms to wrap around him, strong and warm and protecting. Kurt hugged back as his eyes began to water; sometimes he forgot how much he missed his step brother.

There was a sudden crash and tinkle of glass then Han's voice rang clearly through the house, "They have broken the living room window, grab weapons and report to the living room, we have a break in!"

Kurt's stomach plummeted to rest somewhere below the floor, and from the look on Finn's face he was suffering from an equally crippling shock. Kurt shook his head violently, this was not the time to freeze up. He wrenched open the cutlery drawer and grasped a handful of knives. Passing one to Finn he bolted out of the room.

Charlie was already in the common room. Heavy brass lamp in hand, he was swinging at the hands that reached through the gaping square foot hole in the layers of wood slats and glass that had protected them from the outside world. Kurt shoved a knife at him and the prefect began to hack at the hands. The kitchen knives were not as easy to wield as the machetes, but Charlie was still able to send hunks of zombie flesh flying.

There were shouts from above and people began to sprint down the stairs, mismatched weapons in hand.

Suddenly an ominous crack tore through the air. "Get back!" Kurt shouted grabbing the collar of Chaz's shirt and dragging him backwards as the window broke far enough apart for monsters to come charging in.

Things began to happen too fast for Kurt to keep track. Zombies began to squeeze into the living room in a frenzy of bloodlust, and other bodies joined the fray, Windsors and New Directions alike. All Kurt could focus on was the three foot bubble around him and what monsters lay within, while still trying to distribute knives.

A rather short zombie staggered toward him, arms outstretched and fingers twitching toward his throat. Kurt slashed at the rotting hands, removing fingers with every strike. Not wanting to get too close with such a short weapon he remained stabbing at the deadly arms until Evan, or maybe it was Ethan, rushed past him and with a swish of gleaming metal walloped off the zombie's head.

A cold clammy hand closed on Kurt's shoulder and he reeled around, getting a glimpse of long blonde hair rushing past him before he laid eyes on his new attacker. Kurt swung at the zombie's free hand reaching toward his throat. He stabbed and sliced, but he couldn't get the iron grip on his shoulder to let up. The zombie was dragging him closer to that leering, flesh hungry mouth and Kurt could smell the rancid stench of decaying flesh as the zombie pulled him closer.

A baseball bat entered Kurt's periphery and the monster staggered backwards. Julian Larson batted the creature backwards, swinging with relentless fervor until with one powerful swing the bat became lodged in the monster's mouth. Arm muscles straining he wrenched the bat downwards pulling the zombie with it pinning it to the floor. "Knife," he grunted. Taking his cue Kurt swooped down and hacked at sinew and skin until head rolled from neck.

Julian dislodged his bat and not sparing a second, sprinted with desperate haste to where Logan was taking on two creatures single handedly.

In his moment of peace Kurt scanned the room; Puck and Quinn were back to back next to him Puck swinging lethally with a metal pipe while Quinn lashed out with a knife. On his other side the Twins darted quickly back and forth machete's gleaming in the dim light as the felled foe after foe. To his left Dwight grappled with a monster, just as the beast seemed to gain the upper hand Dwight dealt a lethal blow and moved on to help Chaz.

That's when Kurt noticed Wes. A zombie had managed to get its hands around his neck and was strangling him as it pulled him in. Wes's terrified face was mere inches from the snapping jaws. Kurt raced toward him but David was there first. His hands clamped on the monster's shoulders and with powerful tug he yanked the monster away from his best friend.

Kurt shot past them still keeping his eyes peeled for anyone in a dire situation. He skirted Shane and Santana double teaming a particularly large zombie and his heart dropped. He had just spotted a head of curly dark hair bobbing through the sea of violently flailing limbs.

"Blaine!" the shout was lost in the chaos of screams, moans, and thuds of weapons against decaying flesh.

Kurt ran faster than he ever had before, hurdling over the corpses that littered his path. Blaine swung heavily with the wooden baseball bat in his hand, Kurt caught the back of the zombie's neck with his knife mid stumble and the momentum was enough to force the knife straight through the rotting flesh.

"Thanks!" Kurt wondered at how Blaine was able to seem so energetic when surrounded by blood thirsty monsters. "Follow me!"

They raced across the room, dodging zombies and humans. Head spinning screams erupted from somewhere but Blaine ran on, determination unwavering. They reached the kitchen and Blaine made sure Kurt was inside before he swung in behind him.

"Break that chair!" Blaine commanded pointing to one of the spindly kitchen chairs. Needing no further bidding Kurt picked up the chair and crashed it on the ground, a bit shocked at his own strength when it splintered into a dozen pieces.

"Grab the legs!"

Kurt grabs the four spears of wood. When he turned around he was surprised to find his boyfriend shirtless. "Blaine?"

The boy ignored Kurt's obvious confusion. With a few loud rips Blaine tore his shirt into four parts. He reached for the chair legs and began to tie a strip to the end of each.

"Hand sanitizer?" he grunted as he continued to form what Kurt realized were make shift torches.

Kurt rummaged through the drawers, removed a clear bottle, and tossed it to Blaine. Blaine squirted it onto the knotted fabric. He flipped on a burner and handing two torches to Kurt and held his over the fire until it took light.

Kurt followed suit and soon they were armed with two blazing torches apiece.

"Let's go!" Blaine bellowed and they charged back out of the kitchen into the fray.

The zombies nearest the door let out snarling screams and they swung the fire toward them and turned tail to flee. There was however a whole room of people and zombies between them and escape, many fell, some knocking over other monsters, some ran head long into attackers and were felled, a few managed to barrel their way through and escape into the night.

The further away zombies began to register the flames as Blaine and Kurt moved steadily forward, swinging their torches before them.

Kurt smacked one monster square in the face. It ran away shrieking, flailing in an attempt to douse the flames that spread from its head down its torso. People jumped out of its way as it raced for the hole in the wall. Judging by a last blood curdling scream, it didn't make it very far into the night before it was consumed by fire.

Someone threw open the front door and with two exits the zombies were gone in the blink of an eye.

The Windsor Common room was eerily silent.

Zombie corpses littered the floor, their heads having rolled into every corner of the room. Not a piece of furniture was upright and in one piece. The rug smoked where fiery footsteps had singed it. There were a few puddles of blood but for such a scene of carnage the amount of blood seemed surprisingly little.

"Wow." Brittany's exhaled exclamation broke the tension.

"Is everyone alright?" Chaz asked looking from face to face. Puck, Finn and Sam just shrugged and looked at him with weary, disillusioned eyes. Quinn, Lauren, and Santana bit their lips and nodded fighting hard to hold back tears. Evan and Ethan didn't bother to answer, already picking their way around the room, studying the fallen corpses their lips pursed tightly with disgust tinged with sadness. Dwight's eyes were huge as he tried to take in every detail of the scene at once, his mind whirring as he tried to gather information. Wes's face was screwed up as if he was trying not to vomit. Shane and Todd just sighed unable to tear their eyes away from the destroyed bodies. Kurt reached for Blaine's free hand and nodded still gripping his flaming torches. Logan took a deep breath putting a hand to his face, Julian reached out to comfort him instinctively but his hands dropped to the side before he could touch him.

Chaz turned his gaze to the stairs. Mercedes, Brittany, and Baily were poised at the bottom, odd pieces of furniture in hand which they had used as weapons. Up the stairs a ways crouched Rachel and Reed their faces pale and lips trembling. Artie had wheeled his chair to the landing and looked out over the scene with what looked like regret.

"Should we do a head count?" the prefect asked tentatively. He knew it was necessary but he was almost afraid to find out if everyone was accounted for.

A loud sob erupted from behind them and everyone turned on the spot to look at Wes.

"Wes what is it?" Blaine pressed his torches into his brother's hand and ran to comfort his friend. "Are you okay?" His voice trembled a little, "Did you get bit?"

Wes shook his head violently as tears and snot continued to flow down his face. He was crying so hard he couldn't find the words, couldn't speak.

He clung to Blaine gulping for air.

"Wes," Chaz's voice was urgent, "what is it please tell us."

Wes's lips moved against Blaine's shoulder but no sound came out. He tried again, "David…"

"David?" Blaine asked, panic creeping into his voice, "What about him."

But Wes couldn't say anymore.

"David what does he mean?" Blaine's eyes flew around the room, but he knew the search was fruitless, he already knew what Wes meant.

David wasn't in the room. David was gone.

Hands flew to mouths as the room took a collective gasp. Reed shrieked and tumbled backwards.

Blaine rubbed comforting circles on Wes's back, and tried to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Wes do you know what happened?" The boy nodded jerkily. "Can you tell us?"

Wes let out another heaving sob and pulled away from Blaine. The room looked at him apprehensively; ready to hear the worst, but Wes didn't speak. Instead he clamped a hand to his mouth and raced over to one of Windsor's many urns which he promptly threw up into.

He emerged shaking and pale as death. "They got him," he whispered. "We were fighting and I got distracted and I looked back and one had its arms around him and then there was another one that grabbed him and I tried to hit them away but they wouldn't let go and they were dragging him, and I was trying to save him and then I couldn't see him because they were all around him and then he screamed and then they were outside and I couldn't—I couldn't…" The words that had rushed out almost of their own accord were interrupted by painful retching. Wes doubled over and fell to the floor.

Concerned friends rushed toward him, supporting his head and holding his hands as the dry heaving stopped and he again tried to speak. "I couldn't save him the way he saved me."

The room was silent. Every face in the room was somber, and many were stained with tears. Wes's sobbing had ceased but tears still streamed mutely from his closed eyes.

"Reed?" The petite boy's head snapped up to attention and he scampered down the stairs to Charlie. In a low voice the prefect said, "Take him to the kitchen, make him some tea, and…" apparently he couldn't think of any other way to comfort Wes. After all how do you comfort someone who just lost their best friend?

Reed nodded seriously. Once they were able to get Wes on his feet he wrapped a comforting arm around the boy's waist and led him from the room.

"Now," Chaz heaved a great sigh and his broad shoulders fell, "is there anyone else?" Imperceptible to the rest of the room, his hands shook, he dreaded this answer.

"Yes," It was Santana's voice that broke the silence.

"Who?"

"Tina—"

"and Mike."

"How?"

Santana looked down at her hands. There was a blister forming on the upper part of her palm below her pointer finger, she must have been holding the bat too firmly. "She came with them…"

Quinn nodded, "She came through the hole right before Kurt and Blaine scared them all away with the fire."

"Did you…."

"No… I couldn't. She escaped."

Everyone stared at the floor in silence, many of the New Directions were now wiping their eyes and noses.

Charlie allowed a few seconds of silence but he was too anxious to let it drag on for too long. There was a lot of work to be done, and as long as it was still dark they were in danger of another attack.

"Come on guys we need to get this place cleaned up. Someone keep look out at the hole, and hold the torches, we don't want them to return."

To move felt agonizing but gradually everyone began to spread out around the living room.

Evan kicked over a zombie and looked at it carefully. "Dwight?" asked Ethan, "Why do only some of them bleed."

The hunter sighed rubbing his forehead, "I think those are the younger ones, the ones that only changed a few days ago. See the ones that are still recognizable bleed." He pointed at a blood smeared corpse to his right, "but the ones that look almost completely decayed don't." He pointed to another corpse that was dry as a bone. "But be careful not to touch the blood, it carries the infection. If you have it on you wash it off immediately, don't let it get into your eyes, or mouth or any cut you might have…"

Eyes widened around the room and people looked quickly at their hands and turner to their neighbors to have their faces inspected. Santana and Sam ended up sprinting from the room to the nearest sink, their hearts pounding.

The group set to work with a somber heaviness in their limbs. Every corpse was piled onto the rug, along with any furniture that bore the smallest splatter of blood. Large splinters of wood and shards of broken glass were added to the heap. As they worked the night softened to dawn and light peeked in through the gash in their wall. Once every last hunk of flesh was collected the rug was dragged outside and set alight.

The Twins procured buckets of diluted bleach and began to scrub down the floor, wads of fabric pressed tightly to their faces. Others broke down pieces of furniture and located boards to close up the gaping hole.

Finally it was done, the carnage was cleaned, and there was no lingering chance of contamination. But when necessary tedium stopped emptiness set in.

They lingered in the newly decontaminated common room at a loss for what to do. No one was tired, although the adrenaline rush of battle was long over.

Everyone felt the weight of loss and sadness pressing down on them, making it hard to breath and painful to look at each other.

Rachel's voice broke the silence, "I wish we had head stones or just something to remember them by…" she pulled her sweater closer around her shoulders.

"We could make something couldn't we?" Shane looked around at the solemn faces hoping for agreement.

Reed rubbed Wes's back in slow comforting circles and stared at the blank wall across from him, "I have an idea," he murmured hardly loud enough for everyone to hear. He took off up the stairs, stumbling a bit on his way.

He appeared moments later, arms laden with painting supplies. "This wall," he stated pointing at the unadorned surface, "this wall will be our memorial." He dragged a chair over to the wall, arranged his supplies and in big, flowing, loopy, black letters began to paint.

The rest of the room watched transfixed as his paintbrush went up and down and around until finally he jumped off the chair and stepped back to examine his work. The wall now read:

In loving memory of our dear, brave friends:

David Sullivan

Tina Cohen-Chang

Mike Chang

They stared at the writing until the words seemed burned into their retinas. Then softly from the couch came something they had not expected to hear.

Eyes staring blankly at the floor Wes's lips moved automatically and the words that trailed from them were hushed and unsteady.

_Is it warm, is it soft against your face?  
>Do you feel the kind of grace inside the breeze?<br>Will there be trees, is there light?  
>Does it hover on the ground?<br>Does it shine from all around or just from you?_

His voice was still soft but the shaking slowed and the melody became clearer. Every eye was on him. It was impossible to look away as glassy tears rolled down his cheeks.

_Is it endless and empty and you wander on your own?  
>Slowly forget about the folks that you have known<br>Water's rising, bread fill up the air  
>From moping kitchens everywhere<br>Familiar faces far as you can see, like a family_

He closed his eyes and David's smiling face with its big friendly eyes swam before him. He posed the questions of the song to that familiar smile. He was almost pleading, wanting to know that the boy was alright, that he hadn't suffered. His hand tightened over his knees. His skin was slowly bruising, but that didn't matter that was nothing.

Blaine knelt beside the weeping boy and voice low and gentle added harmony to his lonely melody.

_Do we live, is it like a little town?  
>Do we get to look back down at who we love?<br>Are we above, are we everywhere, are we anywhere at all?  
>Do we hear a trumpet call us and we're by your side?<em>

Blaine looked around and nodded at the other Warblers and nodded, they knew their cue and they fought through the lumps in their throats to add perfectly in tune harmony.

_Will I want or will I wish  
>For all the things that I should have done?<br>Longing to finish what I only just begun_

The New Directions felt the melody swell around them and many pressed hands to their mouths to suppress sobs, Tina and Mike's smiles dancing through their minds.

_Or has a shiny truth been waiting there  
>For all the questions everywhere<br>In a world of wondering, suddenly you know  
>And you will always know<em>

Will he be there waiting for me?  
>Smiling like the ways he does<br>And holding out his arms  
>And he calls my name<p>

As they felt to song boiling to a climax, each felt in their hearts that their brave friends were okay. Evan Mike and Tina whose bodies still haunted the earth had gone on to a better plane of existence.

They fixed their eyes on the wall, tears streaming down their faces as their voices wove together for one last verse.

_He will hold me just the same  
>Only Heaven knows how glory goes<br>What each of us was meant to be  
>In the starlight, that is what we are<br>I can see so far_

* * *

><p><em>Next Episode: "No" thought Blaine, "This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. Couldn't they take me instead?"<br>_


	6. We Love Anyway

**Howdy y'all!**

**As always thanks for reading.**

**I had to get this one out quicker than usual because I'm sending in my lap toped to get fixed tomorrow and don't know how long until I'll get it back :S**

**I feel bad sending you guys into this chapter without a warning, so be prepared, shit gets real, and in a rather upsetting sort of way.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. This fic is based on CP Coulter's Dalton and all other characters are hers. **

* * *

><p>Reed knocked gently and pressed his ear to the door… no answer. He grimaced up at the tall, skinny boy next to him, "Should we just go in?"<p>

Shane tugged at his hair thought fully then nodded, "Yeah, I don't think he should be left alone you know…"

The door knob was smooth and cold under Reed's hand as he opened the door. They stepped into Wes's room and blinked in the near total darkness; the curtains were drawn blocking out any glimmer of light from the stars and all the lamps were resolutely switched off. Still, Reed could make out the lump huddled on the middle of the bed.

"Wes?" he whispered, his voice disturbing the absolute stillness of the room, "Are you awake?"

The lump twitched, "Leave me alone."

Reed grimaced again and took a step forward, "Come on Wes. I know you're upset, I know you miss David. We all do. But now's not the time to break down. There's so much to be done." It was true, everyone had attempted to sleep for a few hours that morning but by midday Windsor had been alive with hurried movement. New defensive strategies were being devised, windows and doors were being reinforced, and the daily regiments that keep the teeming house in order were carried out.

Wes shook his head and buried his face in blankets.

"Wes we need you, and you need to get out of this room. David wouldn't want you locking yourself away like this… he would want you to continue fighting."

Shane marveled at how soothing Reed's voice was while at the same time commanding. He always knew that this confident, control taking boy lurked below the surface of Reed's seemingly fragile persona.

Wes raised his head and blinked at them blearily through tear stained eyes. Reed could feel his words taking effect. "Come on Wes," he urged, "make David proud."

Wes continued to blink at them but remained mute. He needed something else, one last push, something to raise his spirits. Of course! Reed nearly slapped himself on the forehead, what had they always done to cheer themselves up even long before the fear of violent death filled their every hour?

He took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on Wes.

_We need some light.  
>First of all, we need some light.<em>

He gave the words the same gentle command as he had speaking. Right on cue Shane reached over and flicked on Wes's bedside lamp, filling the room with a warm homey glow.

_You can't sit here in the dark.  
>And all alone, it's a sorry sight.<em>

Wes dragged his wrist across his cheeks and looked at Reed, the despondency clearing from his eyes.

_It's just you and me.  
>We'll live, you'll see.<em>

Reed smiled reassuringly at Wes and took his hand.

* * *

><p>Brittany and Santana strolled down the hall, pinkies locked. They were headed to bed, hoping to snatch a few hours of sleep before they took over the early morning watch.<p>

Music spilled into the hallway through a slightly ajar door. Brittany picked up the melody, singing along as they continued toward their room

_Night after night,  
>We'd sit and wait for the morning light.<em>

Santana shook her head at the way Brittany's light voice seemed to bounce off the walls around them almost cheerfully. She laughed darkly and finished the verse:

_But we've waited far too long,  
>For all that's wrong to be made right.<em>

Brittany tilted to head to look at the girl walking beside her, her soft pink lips turning down in a frown. Santana just sighed wearily, "Come on Britt, let's get some sleep." And they disappeared into a door way on the left._  
><em>

::::::::::::::

Julian Larson leaned against a doorway across from the one the girls had just shut. He reclined against the wooden frame, looking like a model even in the slightly too small pajamas that David had lent him a few days before. His mouth traced the familiar words and his clear voice rose with meaning.

_Day after day,  
>Wishing all our cares away.<em>

He turned to look over his shoulder at the form of Logan Wright, prostrate on the bed and oblivious to any noise as his chest rose and fell with peaceful slumber.

_Trying to fight the things we feel,  
>But some hurts never heal.<br>Some ghost are never gone,_

Julian's stomach twisted as his mind wandered from the beautiful blond boy, to another tall muscular boy who had completed their trio.

_But we go on,  
>We still go on.<em>

* * *

><p>Kurt heard the familiar notes drifting down the hallway as he pulled on his pajamas. The melancholy lyrics struck a chord within him, and succumbing to his love for the dramatic, he began to sing.<p>

_And you find some way to survive  
>And you find out you don't have to be happy at all,<em>

He caught the eye of the dark haired boy changing a few feet from him and their voices twined together in a mesh of beautiful melancholy.

_To be happy you're alive._

Kurt stopped singing so he could pull a clean t-shirt over his bare chest and Blaine continued with the melody.

_Day after day,  
>Give me clouds, and rain and gray.<br>Give me pain, if that's what's real._

Kurt's head popped out of the shirt and he ran a hand through his tousled hair, fixing his eyes on Blaine as he added harmony.

_It's the price we pay to feel.  
><em>

Blaine stepped forward taking Kurt's hand and leading him to the bed. His beautiful hazel eyes bored into Kurt as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

_The price of love is loss_

Tears beaded in the corners of Kurt's eyes as they lay down. His voice was breathless and he couldn't look away from Blaine.

_But still we pay._

In tune with each other, they leaned they forward simultaneously and pressed their foreheads together as their arms and legs became entwined. Their voices were soft, barely audible as they held each other close.

_We love anyway.  
><em>

Their eye's drifting shut, Blaine and Kurt felt asleep in each other's embrace

* * *

><p>Reed and Shane were now on either side of Wes. He looked between the singing boys with a new alertness, drinking in the song that tumbled from their lips.<p>

_And when the night has finally gone.  
>And when we see the new day dawn.<br>We'll wonder how we wandered for so long, so blind._

Reed held Wes's hand, his soft fingers applying comforting pressure that urged Wes to hope just as much as the lyrics did.

_The wasted world we thought we knew,  
>The light will make it look brand new.<br>So let it…  
>Let it…<em>

Wes's voice joined Reed and Shane's, but it was no more than a tentative whisper.

_Let it shine, _

_shine, shine.  
><em>

His voice grew stronger, swooping up to a crescendo as the corners of his mouth curved with a sad smile.

_Day after day,  
>We'll find the will to find our way.<br>Knowing that the darkest skies will someday see the sun._

When our long night is done,

_There will be light.  
>There will be light.<br>When we open up our light.  
>Sons and daughters, husbands, wives.<br>Can fight that fight.  
>There will be light.<br>There will be light.  
>There will be light.<br>There will be light._

* * *

><p>Evan and Ethan were perched on the edge of the roof, their feet dangling over the treacherous edge, bouncing in time to the strains of music that drifted up from the windows below.<p>

"Evan! Ethan!" a harsh voice called across the roof, "I think we've got a few more over here!"

"Coming Noah!" The Twins hollered in unison springing up. Puck was the only person in Windsor the Brightmans consistently called by their first name, and though it had irked him at first he had to admit it didn't bother him too much now. He liked the oddly energetic twin boys.

The Twins grabbed a small bucket of brownish fluid and raced across the roof.

Puck stood poised a few feet from the edge, a lacrosse stick in one hand and a wad of tightly knotted fabric in the other. "Ready?" he asked and the Tweedles nodded enthusiastically.

Puck dunked the ball in the lighter fluid and set it in the basket of the lacrosse stick (the net had been replaced with flame retardant window screen), quick as a flash Ethan set the little ball alight. Puck took aim and with a whoosh the fiery ball was flying through the air. An arch of light burned into their eyes as they watched the projectile plummet toward the earth. Either Puck's aim and foresight were impeccable, or luck was on his side because the missile hit the bumbling zombie on the shoulder and it stumbled, going up in flames as it fell.

The two zombies that were following in its wake caught sight of the flames that leapt from the writhing body and took flight, disappearing back into the night.

"Nice one Noah!" the Twins cheered in unison each raising a hand for a high five before they trotted back across the roof to keep watch.

* * *

><p>Kurt stifled a yawn and stooped to lace up his docs. Today was another day. Another day of working, and worrying, and surviving. But at least it was another day to be alive.<p>

He stretched and took a deep breath. The room was a bit stuffy so he shuffled over to the window and threw it open. The morning air was fresh and cool on his face. Kurt reached his hand out the window (the screen on his window had been commandeered by the Twins for the sake of some project or another), past the dusky band of shadow thrown by the eves, and into the clear dawn light. His fingers warmed as he wiggled them in the golden rays.

It was a shame that such a nice day had to be wasted. If things had been different he and Blaine would have strolled hand in hand across the dew drizzled grass and perhaps eat a picnic brunch under a shady tree. He sighed with regret as he pictured the way the dappled leafy green light would illuminate Blaine's face and his lips tingled longingly at the thought of the kisses they would share.

Kurt shook his head, banishing the wistful daydream, preparation for finals would probably have them barricade in the library anyways. That is if it was time for finals, Kurt wasn't quite sure if it was… He actually wasn't sure what day it was but he had a feeling it was a Monday… or maybe a Thursday….

He sighed regretfully and pulled his hand back. Maybe Blaine was in the kitchen. Kurt knew it sounded pathetic and could even be taken as unhealthy, but he could hardly stand being separated from Blaine these days.

Friendly voices greeted him as he opened the door to the room he and Blaine now shared permanently, "Morning Alice!"

"Morning." Kurt smiled at the identical boys, it was hard not to. Even as he smiled he noticed how pale they had become, the way their skin seemed like it was stretched a little too tightly across their cheek bones, how a permanent gray hue seemed to stain the vulnerable skin below their eyes. Even their brilliantly blue eyes had been altered, shining no longer with joy but with determination.

"Sleep well Alice?"

"Well enough. Listen, have you seen Blaine?"

They bobbed their heads making the locks of gold hair that fell across their foreheads bounce, "The White Rabbit is hammering away above making the assent accessible." Before Kurt could ask for clarification they scampered away.

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly and made his way down stairs. The one thing Kurt had gotten from the Twins' statement was that Blaine was already hard at work. So Kurt figured he would fix himself breakfast and do the same.

In the common room he came across Mercedes, Sam, and Rachel munching on toasted waffles and sipping orange juice. They waved and urged him to join them. Kurt assured them that he would and slipped into the kitchen.

Two boys looked up as he entered; Logan sat up straighter, his expression brightening into a smile while Julian slumped back in his chair a shadow flitting over his face. Kurt just smiled vaguely in their direction and made his way to the cupboard.

Logan cleared his throat, fierce green eyes fixed on the newcomer "Hey Kurt, We were just discussing if there are going to be any search parties out looking for us," he said, eager to engage Kurt.

Kurt dipped a tea bag in the mug of hot water he had just poured and frowned. He had tried not to think too much about people on the outside and why the handful of teenagers had been left completely stranded.

"I figure if they haven't come to get us yet they are never going to." Julian scowled, flipping silky chestnut hair out of his eyes, "They think we're dead, or worse. Why should they risk their necks to check on something that seems so unlikely?"

Logan's face fell.

Kurt gingerly plucked a piece of whole grain toast from the toaster, biting his lip thoughtfully, "I don't think that they think we're dead…" Julian raised an eyebrow skeptically, "Han has been broadcasting radio messages about our condition and situation. I'm sure at least one of them was been picked up."

Logan's brow furrowed, "If they know we're alive, then why hasn't anyone come?"

Julian snorted, his eyes were dark and unintelligible as they peered darkly at the boy across the table from him, "Why would anyone want to risk their lives to save us?"

"Maybe because I'm the son of a senator," Logan bit back, his temper flaring, "Hilde Van Kamp's son is here too if you haven't forgotten. Plus, the Brightmans and the Houstons have more than enough resources at their fingertips, not to mention Wes's family. And look at you _Julian Larson,_" His lips twisted angrily around the name, spitting it out with unwarranted venom,_ "_the person who saved your life would be famous, not to mention the thousands of fan girls who would be over the moon to risk their life for you." Logan's chest heaved with the effort of his outburst as he glared at his best friend.

Julian sneered nastily, "So combined, all concerned parties have enough resources to fly in a rescue team bigger than the population of Texas, but there is still a gaping hole in your logic: _where are they_?"

The comment had been vehement enough, but Kurt though he had caught a glimmer of what looked like pain in Julian's eyes. It must have been a trick of the light. After all, Logan was always exploding at Julian and the haughty actor would brush it off like an irritating bit of lint and shoot back with a snarky comment. But judging by the way Julian's eye lingered on Logan's profile (which Kurt couldn't attribute to irregular electromagnetic radiation) the boy's snappy reply was hiding something more. Maybe Julian was a much better actor than Kurt gave him credit for.

Kurt bit his lip, Logan was still laboring over a retort and the mute tension in the room was getting awkward. Kurt was about to escape to the common room when Logan's head shot up. "The government!" he proclaimed triumphantly. "The government doesn't want people here, they're scared that the virus will spread or something and so they are keeping everyone out." He pounded a fist on the table which rattled under the blow.

A cold laugh quenched Logan's momentary exultation, "Really Wright? A conspiracy theory? What would Daddy say if he could hear you?"

Logan's jaw clenched at the mention of his father, "Well do you have a better answer _Larson_?" He shot up knocking his chair backwards, the anger in his gut coming to a boil.

Kurt reacted instinctively; he had been privy to too many of Logan's rages to sit idly by. Hastily, he placed a comforting yet firm hand on Logan's arm forcing him into another chair.

At the touch Logan's anger seemed to dissipate and he looked at Kurt with a familiar glassy expression. Behind Kurt's back Julian stiffened.

Kurt removed his hand quickly, he knew Logan had sworn to stop chasing after him but he thought it best not to tempt the volatile boy. "You two seriously need to learn how to talk to each other without jumping down each other's throats," he huffed. Then grabbing his breakfast, he turned heel to join the people in the common room who's friendships were mercifully free of irrational anger and veiled infatuation.

Julian monitored the other boy closely as the infuriating little diva stormed from the room. Something in his chest fluttered when Logan's gaze didn't follow Kurt out of the room but instead fixed itself on the empty expanse of table between them. Then, as he watched, Logan raised his face with a grimace that was meant to be an apologetic smile. Guilt surged in Julian's stomach, he shouldn't have been so cruel, but it was just so hard when Kurt was there. He felt the urge to race around the table and wrap his arms around Logan, whispering apologies until Logan begged him to stop. Instead he returned Logan's grimace, hoping it didn't look too haughty.

* * *

><p>Dwight scrutinized at the blood in the syringe. There was hardly any and the few droplets that he had managed to coax out of the rat's flesh were dark and coagulated, they had hardly come through the needle.<p>

He set the syringe in a plastic box and secured the latched before bowing his head over his notebook. He squeezed a stumpy pencil in his fingers as he scrawled hastily across the page:

_28 hours from contamination: Mouse seems to have lost all natural mannerisms. Has no desire for the cheese or carrots I put in his cage. Shows aggression (rams himself against the glass anytime he sees a human). Blood is mostly black and very thick, I couldn't extract more than a few drops._

He knew his notes would probably be frowned on by a real scientist as being too vague, but he was all the survivors had at this point.

His eyes wandered up the page examining the notes that had been taken every two hours recording the mouse's behavior, the changes in its appetite, and the steady transformation and decrease in its blood. He had a feeling that next time he poked it with a syringe there would be no blood to draw even though the creature would be as energetic as ever.

He tipped the notebook sideways reading a note Todd had made in the margins earlier:

_Do you think a bigger animal, say a human, would take longer to transform?_

He smiled and looked up to where his roommate was splayed across his bed. Todd must have scribbled the note at the end of his shift watching their experiment, right before Dwight took over so the boy could pass out.

Dwight had been thinking the same thing, and he was almost positive that the bigger the animal the longer the transformation would take. Unfortunately, he had no way to test this theory, so he closed the notebook and took to touching up the salt that he had lined their room with.

* * *

><p>Kurt folded another of Blaine's polo shirts and placed it neatly in the boy's dresser. He was thankful he had been assigned to laundry duty, it may be a boring job but his skin was saved from the searing rays of the sun that could only result in unsightly discoloration and ultimately wrinkles. He hummed to himself as he planned out how to tackle his assignment; he had already done Reed and Shane's laundry and Brittany, Santana, and Quinn's was currently drying, Sam and Finn's was washing, next he would do—<p>

An odd fluttering sound at the window disrupted his thoughts and he looked over his shoulder. There was a brief moment when he saw the bird clearly. Its greyed feathers were tinged with a sickly yellow, many were missing. It flew clumsily almost as if he were staggering through the air his cold steel beak gaping open. Then with a screech it dove through the air and buried its beak into the tender skin on the base of Kurt's neck.

Kurt's hand shot up and closed around the little ball of feathers as his neck stung with pain. The creature writhed in his hands, releasing a guttural squawk and attempting to peck at the flesh of his hand. Kurt raced across the room to the empty bird cage and thrust the little winged monster inside.

He breathed heavily at he watched Pav throw himself angrily against the bars of the cage.

It was a few seconds before Kurt remembered himself and slowly pivoted to face the mirror. Slowly, his eyes took in the sight of the jaggedly circular hole in the side of his neck. Any color in his porcelain skin drained. It was just a cut right? Small and harmless, hardly deep enough to draw any substantial amount of blood. But as his eyes flickered back to the bird still violently trashing in its cage, Kurt knew that to think the gouge was harmless was to delude himself.

His hand shook violently as he raised it to the wound he applied gentle pressure with his fingers. As the initial shock wore off the shaking spread through his body, attacking his chest as he tried to take in great shuttering breathes. His lungs seized up and he couldn't get air. He gasped, now clutching at the small wound with both hands as his knees threatened to collapse.

The reeling boy staggered towards the door as a strangled sob tore from his lips. The door slammed open and he flung himself into the hall, searching desperately through the tears that began to blur his vision. "Blaine!" the shout was broken and raw and felt as if it shredded Kurt's vocal chords as it came out.

"Alice?" two worried voices asked as equally concerned faces emerged down the hall. The Twins raced toward him their confusion not hindering the urgency with which they came. "Alice what's wrong?" Evan asked reaching out a hand to remove Kurt's grip on his own shoulder. Kurt twisted away, falling to his knees with the effort.

Evan and Ethan's faces were more serious than Kurt had ever seen them, "Kurt what's wrong?" Ethan asked crouching down and peering into Kurt's eyes.

Kurt's throat felt like it had closed up and although he had opened his mouth no sound came out, so he did the only thing he could and removed his hands.

Evan and Ethan stared at the small wound eyes calculating, apparently it didn't look like much so they were not immediately struck with terror, "Kurt is that from…?"

Kurt nodded biting his lip as another sob wracked his body and tears continued to stream down his face.

"Evan go get Blaine and Dwight." Ethan ordered his voice low and husky. Evan, who had had the same idea, was halfway down the hallway before Ethan finished the first word.

"Kurt?" Ethan whispered as the boy began to rock back and forth shaking with silent sobs. He reached out a hand to shake Kurt's unharmed shoulder but the crumpled boy flinched and he retracted the hand. "Kurt," he whispered again, urgency flooding his words, "do you feel… different."

Kurt shook his head frantically as he continued to rock, "I don't know." He rasped.

"And you'll tell me if you start feeling… not yourself?"

Ethan had chosen his words carefully but they still sent a shudder through Kurt.

He squeezed his eyes shut, to see anything was overwhelming. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't be. He couldn't be infected, but he knew from the moment Pav had broken his skin with that deathly cold beak that he was contaminated. Nothing but the zombie virus could have put the bird in such a state; those grey feathers were not the product of molting. And now this was it he was going to die, or become a monster, no he wouldn't let that happen. He was going to die… he had never thought death would come like this.

His thoughts became jumbled, his mind couldn't piece things together coherently. His head was a cacophony of fear. There was movement around him and the sound of voices and feet but they entered his ears and became so swirled with the chaos in his head that he couldn't make sense of them.

Then one voice cut clearly through the chaos, "Kurt?"

Kurt's eyes flew open. Blaine knelt before him his face mere inches from Kurt's. He was paler than Kurt had ever seen him and his eyes were darker than Kurt remembered. They were black pits that seemed to go on forever. Even in his hysterical panic Kurt felt, looking into those eyes, how lost the owner must be. In his gut he felt the rolling sensation of plummeting through darkness. Yet somehow the eyes grounded him, giving him a steady focus as the world tilted on its axis.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice shook so badly he almost couldn't finish the word. He reached a hand toward Kurt's face but the boy shook his head quickly.

"Don't."

Blaine seemed to collapse internally and his lips pursed together and twitched, threatening to burst apart with a howling sob. "How?" the question was barely intelligible.

Kurt made an effort to sit up, he hated seeing the pain in Blaine's eyes and even if he couldn't take away the cause he could do his best to maintain some type of composure. He swallowed a breath of air, trying to silence the screaming chaos in his head.

"Pav." He managed to mutter through his swollen feeling throat.

People behind Blaine started murmuring. Although Kurt couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from Blaine, he recognized the voices.

"Pav?" a high shaky voice that had to have been Reed's asked.

"But we haven't seen him since… Mr. Schuster! It was him wasn't it!" Shane spluttered.

A lower more intense voice spoke somewhere to Kurt's right, "Kurt what happened to him?" Kurt jerked his head toward the door to his room and heard Dwight rush in that direction. There was a brief clanging of metal and a collective gasp as Dwight's footsteps returned.

"Todd take Pav back to our room, careful not to come in range of his beak." A set of footsteps left hurriedly. "Kurt, you're going to have to let me see the wound."

Kurt slowly loosened his own hold on his own neck. He realized his fingers had started to cramp up and were still twisted in a claw like shape as he lowered his hands.

Blaine broke eye contact as his gaze trailed slowly down to the now exposed gouge. An involuntary sound of heartbreaking despair escaped him. The cut didn't look like much, just a small everyday nick, no bigger than if Kurt had cut himself with his own nail, that was smeared with a bit of blood. A shiver ran down Blaine's spine, because maybe his eyes were deceiving him but it looked like the edges of the broken skin were slightly grey like the pallid skin of a corpse.

Dwight examined the wound intently then with a sigh stood up shaking his head. Reed's hand flew to his mouth, Shane choked, and the Tweedles who were standing close enough that the back of their hands brushed looked solemnly down at their feet.

Blaine looked utterly lost, all the air rushed out of his body and he began to shake perceptibly.

A hand came down to lift Blaine up by the collar, he didn't protest, but Kurt let out a strangled cry.

"You too Kurt." And before he knew what was happening a hand had balled in the back of his shirt and was lifting him onto his feet. "Can you stand?" asked Charlie roughly. Kurt didn't answer at first as he tested his legs. They shook horribly but supported his weight so he nodded. Charlie let go of him. "We're going to get you cleaned up okay?" Someone to Charlie's left began to protest but Charlie silenced them with a look then turned back to Kurt. "Don't touch anything." He said gesturing toward the red smears on Kurt's hands. Kurt nodded shakily and Charlie led him slowly down the stairs Reed, Dwight, and Shane in tow.

Blaine made to follow, lunging forward unsteadily; tears sliding from his eyes, but a pair of hands stopped him.

"Blaine," The voices said in unison.

"Stop!" Blaine nearly cried, trying desperately to push past the Tweedles. He needed to follow Kurt. Kurt needed him. Blaine needed to be by Kurt's side. His thoughts raced by in a jumble of simple sentences that took the place of his normal brain function which was incapacitated with fear. He couldn't understand why hands were still on his shoulder's holding him back, keeping him from Kurt.

"No Blaine, you need to pull yourself together."

The words began to sink through his mind clearing away the panicked babble his mind was producing. Blaine froze and looked up at the two dead serious faces.

"He's going to need you to be strong Blaine."

"You need to keep your head."

They looked down at the smaller curly haired boy expecting some type of hysterical protest. Instead Blaine slumped forward, becoming dead weight on their hands. They wrapped their arms around the crumbling boy, holding him tightly between them as he began to cry. Blaine's body shook violently but the sobs were quiet.

Evan and Ethan had just exchanged a worried look over Blaine's head when he pushed away from them.

He drew his wrist across his eyes and looked at them steadily, the panic and desperation having drained from his eyes with the tears, although the was pain still devastatingly prominent. "Thank you." He muttered, and before they could stop him, he ran down the stairs.

The common room was packed with people whispering urgently to each other. No one was exactly sure what was going on but they all knew it involved Kurt and they all knew it was bad. They parted as Blaine entered the room at a sprint. At the sight of him, Reed and Shane who were acting as guards in front of the kitchen door hastily stepped aside.

Kurt's neck wound was already bandaged and his hands thoroughly washed by the time Blaine got there. Oblivious to the arrival of his boyfriend, he plunged his hands into the clear water pouring from the faucet and splashed his face, effectively washing away the now drying tear tracks on his cheeks. Chaz handed him a paper towel to dry his face while Dwight poured bleach into the sink.

Kurt padded the rough paper against his face. As he brought it down his eyes landed on Blaine hovering by the door and the towel fell from his hands. He was wrapped in Blaine's arms before it had time to drift all the way to the floor. Kurt's sobs had ended minutes ago, but as he felt Blaine's warm protective arms around him he the lingering tension in his lungs disappeared. However, a tightness still curled nauseatingly in his stomach that the feel of Blaine pressed against him only worsened.

Their fingers flexed into each other's skin and their eyes clamped shut as they willed their bodies to become closer than humanly possible. Their ragged breathing fell in sync as their arms began to lose circulation from the tightness of the hold.

They broke apart after what may have been seconds or hours and Blaine looked deep into Kurt's eyes. "How do you feel?" He brushed a hand over Kurt's forehead, pushing back the damp lock of hair that rested their.

The tone of his voice and the way their eyes locked was so intimate that the other boys in the room looked away, feeling as if they were intruding.

"A little nauseous." Kurt admitted.

Blaine's mouth became a hard line but he would not break again, he'd be strong for Kurt. He wrapped his hand around Kurt's and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "There are people out there," he nodded toward the door, "do you want to see them?"

Kurt bit at his bottom lip but then stopped, afraid he would draw blood. "I need to," he finally whispered.

The walk to the door seemed to take hours. They dragged one foot after another until they reached the seemingly harmless panel of wood that Kurt pushed open with a deft hand.

A sea of distraught faces stared at them, all perfectly silent. Reed and Shane must have informed everyone of what had happened because tears already stained several faces.

Blaine surveyed the pained countenances then turned to look at Kurt. The boy's blue eyes were huge and for a moment Blaine thought he was going to be overwhelmed, but then Kurt did something that amazed Blaine more than anything he had ever witnessed: Kurt smiled. It was this bravery, this courage that Blaine had always seen at the core of Kurt's being. Blaine's heart gave a painful contraction as he was strongly reminded why he loved Kurt more than anything in the world, and would give up his life for him several times over.

The following minutes were painfully awkward. Everyone wanted to say goodbye but no one wanted to acknowledge that Kurt was going anywhere.

Kurt had to let go of Blaine's hand as he accepted their hugs one by one. Everyone was there: the New Directions huddled together with a mix of falsely cheerful and shamelessly teary faces, Justin who was still jumpy from his stint alone in Hanover had crept out of Charlie's room to pay his respects, the remainders of Stuart house looked shell shocked beyond belief, the Windsor conspirators struggled to put on brave faces for Kurt's sake, and even Han had left his cave to say good bye.

Every single person gave Kurt a hug. Some good-byes were particularly emotional. Mercedes burst into tears and started ranting about how much she loved Kurt, all the wonderful times they had had, and how he had always been there for her. Kurt begged her not to cry and reminded her what an amazing, strong, and beautiful woman she was. Reed was trembling so badly when he came forward, that Kurt's weak joke about him having to take care of the fashion around here all by himself made him topple over backwards. Finn was screwing his face up in an attempt to stem his tears, and when he whispered to Kurt what a great brother he was and how he knew Burt had always been so proud of him Kurt's knees threatened to buckle, but he held himself together. When Logan came forward, he held Kurt tightly, and in a strained voice said, "Thank you Kurt. I wish I could show you how amazing you are and that I could find the words to tell you all the ways you saved my life."

Finally after the Twins had shuffled away (they had come the closest to acknowledging the truth by saying, "Farewell Alice, have fun going through the looking glass. We'll miss you dearly."), the hugs were done. Kurt gazed at the collected faces of his friends and took a deep breath and began, "You are the most wonderful people I know. From the old friends who have known me for what feels like forever," he glanced at the teary clump on New Directions, "to the new friends who made me feel like I belong the way no other group ever has, I love you all. And I just ask that you please, _please_, stay strong. You can fight through this! I believe in every single last one of you and I know you are going to make it through…"

Kurt's was the only dry face in the room when he finished, and he raised his chin fiercely as if daring death to come and take him. But his hand floundered at his side reaching for something that wasn't there. "Blaine?" he whispered looking around as the boy took his hand. As one they moved toward the stairs, people parting as they passed.

They had just reached the bottom of the stairs when a voice rang over the sniffs and stifled sobs, "Blaine," it warned. Dwight was looking intently at Blaine, his hand moving subtly toward the knife secured tightly to his belt.

"No." Blaine's voice was strained tinged with anger. A confused whispered echoed through the room as people tried to figure out what had just transpired, but Kurt and Blaine were already halfway up the staircase.

"He's right you know." Kurt whispered, as they reached the landing.

Blaine felt as though ice cold water had just cascaded through his entire body to puddle at the bottom of his stomach. He decided to play dumb, hoping against hope Kurt wouldn't push the subject. "About what?"

"Well first of all you shouldn't be alone with me unarmed," Blaine opened his mouth in defiant protest but Kurt placed a finger on his lips, "and second of all you know you're going to need to do it in the end…" he finished vaguely and turned away from Blaine to slip into their room.

Blaine followed behind grasping for Kurt's hand that had been pulled from his clasp. "Hey," he said sternly, pulling the taller boy around to face him, "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I don't want you thinking about that now okay?" The sternness melted from him as Kurt nodded biting his lower lip. Blaine sighed and ran his hands comfortingly up and down the side of Kurt's arms. "As for the other thing… if you can feel yourself changing, feeling differently, warn me okay? Until then I'm not going to worry."

Kurt nodded again, unable to meet Blaine's eye.

"How do you feel?" His warm brown eyes traced every line and crease in Kurt's face, looking for answers.

The slight boy shrugged in a way he hoped was casually noncommittal, "Queezy, weak…"

Blaine felt his heart clench but he kept his face calm as he pulled his boyfriend close, snaking his arms around his small warm waist. "You know," he whispered, his lips brushing the delicate skin of Kurt's ear as he nuzzled the side of Kurt's head, "you don't have to be strong in front of me."

And like that Kurt's resolve collapsed. Tears were streaming down his face, his breath came in great painful heaves, and he couldn't stop the moans of despair from erupting in his throat. He knotted his hands in the back of Blaine's shirt pulling himself close the other boy as his feet went out from under him and all his weight collapsed onto Blaine. He buried his face into his boyfriend's shoulder and he sobbed unashamedly, drenching Blaine's shirt in tears and saliva.

Blaine teetered for a moment then steadied himself. He held Kurt close, trying to bring that warm body as near to his as possible. He squeezed his eyes shut but wouldn't let the tears fall, this was Kurt's time to cry, and anyways why should he cry when he should be enjoying the few moments of having Kurt alive in his arms.

They stayed locked in this embrace until Blaine's knees began to give way. He sidled sideways and they fell onto the bed, still tangled as tightly as possible. After five minutes or so Kurt's tears abated enough for him to blink them away to get a good look at Blaine's face. "I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to say something really impressive, or funny, or touching right?" He whispered looking pleadingly into Blaine's eyes. "Or maybe ironic, yeah I'd like to say something ironic." He laughed quietly to himself, "You'd think with all the things I'd planned in painstaking detail for my life I'd have set aside a few minutes to think up some good last words."

Blaine knew Kurt was trying to diffuse the devastating sadness of the moment but he couldn't bring himself to smile. So he just stroked Kurt's hair as silence fell between them. He wanted to say something but the words stuck in his throat.

It was Kurt who finally broke the silence, "You know it was you right? Always has been, always is, always would have been. But I guess you knew that…" his voice began to quaver and he stopped talking.

When he spoke again his voice was low, his lips barely moving, "You know I used to dream about dying, all the time actually. No that I'd ever plan on… you know…" He blinked away the tears he didn't want, the tears he didn't have time for, and gazed at Blaine with those huge cerulean eyes made shinny by crystalline with tears. They were painfully expressive, raw emotion rolling through them like waves in a stormy sea. He continued his voice gaining strength but still hushed, "Ever since my mom died. I dreamed I'd die peacefully, in my sleep usually, and I'd wake up in some kind of after life with my mother. Sometimes my dad would die too and we'd all be together."

Kurt's voice became breathy and dreamy in a way that sent unidentifiable bolts of fear through Blaine's body, "Sometimes there was no after life though, sometimes I disappeared into the black oblivion… that was peaceful too, never minded that." His eyes slid back into focus with new intensity and the rolling waves turned into flickering blue flames that burned into Blaine's retinas. "I had those dreams almost my whole life; until about a year ago, when I met you." Blaine let out an involuntary breath as a sensation that was at once painfully hot and searingly cold constricted around his heart and lungs and stomach.

Kurt reached out a delicate finger and traced up the contours of Blaine's cheek bone, sliding down the line of his jaw, and coming to swirl around those soft rosy lips. "I love you so much Blaine Anderson," he murmured as a single glass tear rolled down his cheek.

"Kurt," Blaine was glad to hear that his voice was steady, "I never thought I could love someone this much, its like everything good, or beautiful springs from you. I see you in everything, and I have never felt more complete than when you are by my side. I would do anything for you, I would give my life to you if I could." His voice was so honest that Kurt thought he could feel his heart physically breaking within him.

Kurt's grip was suddenly tight on Blaine's wrist as he looked imploringly into the boy's eyes, his voice low and pressing, "You'll keep fighting won't you, you won't give up?"

A small part of Blaine wanted to laugh, how did Kurt know? How did he always know? Now Blaine would never be able to give up, although his body and soul may long to. "Of course I'll fight."

Blaine moved toward Kurt but the frail boy held a hand between them and shook his head. "I don't know how it's transmitted," he said in a strained voice.

Blaine nodded and changed his course, planting a kiss on Kurt's forehead then one on each temple. Kurt sighed and let his eyelids flutter.

"How are you feeling now?" Blaine whispered cupping Kurt's face in his hand.

Kurt grimaced, his voice sounding a bit anxious, "Just really tired and a bit faint."

"Do you want to sleep?" Blaine asked but Kurt shook his head 'no' as fiercely as he was able.

"Just—will you… sing to me… and hold me?"

Blaine's lungs spasmed but he refused to cry, "Of course." He scooted so that he was partially propped up against the head board. His heart sank when he realized Kurt was too weak to move himself. Not letting his grief show, Blaine moved Kurt himself positioning him between his legs and propping Kurt up against his chest so that he could rap his arms around the boy and sing into his ear.

Blaine's mind whirred through the list of songs in his head. What were you supposed to sing to the love of your life on their death bed? A love song seemed so shallow and too light. A song about death was far too morbid. Kurt had never been a fan of gospel and probably wouldn't appreciate it now. Lines spread like spider webs across Blaine's face as he tried to come up with the perfect song. Finally he found one, it wasn't perfect but he could make it work if he twisted the meaning a bit, and it had just the right amount of melancholy.

Blaine closed his eyes remembering Kurt's face that first day on the stairs, breathtakingly beautiful as he stopped Blaine with a quizzical expression. Blaine pressed his cheek to the top of Kurt's head and began to sing.

_The world was on fire, no one could save me but you  
>It's strange what desire will make foolish people do<em>

He swallowed as he remembered the feelings that had surged through him like a tidal wave. The way he seemed to fall through blissful nothingness, with no sign of stopping, the only thing he could see being Kurt.

_I'd never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you  
>No, I'd never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you<em>

His voice glided smoothly into the chorus, his lower tones filling the air around them and vibrating with such strong melancholy that it was almost palpable.

_No, I don't wanna fall in love  
><em>_this world is always gonna break your heart__  
><em>

Kurt shifted in his lap and Blaine knew that the beautiful, fragile boy was feeling it too: the harsh sting of remorse as they reflected on their presence in a world that had given them something so precious only to carelessly dispose of it.

_No, I don't wanna fall in love  
><em>_this world is always gonna break your heart__  
>...with you<br>__this world is always gonna break your heart_

Blaine's voice began to crack as he ran his fingers gently through Kurt's hair, letting the soft strands slip in and out of his fingers.

_What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way  
>What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you<br>What a wicked thing to say, to make me felt this way  
>What a wicked thing you do, to make me dream of you<em>

Kurt's head rested back against Blaine's chest as the music swirled around them. He listened to the steady beating of Blaine's heart and the way it acted as a metronome as the beats slowly thumped by.

_No, I don't wanna fall in love  
><em>_this world is always gonna break your heart__  
>No, I don't wanna fall in love<br>...with you  
><em>

Blaine took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Kurt.

_World was on fire, no one could save me but you  
>It's strange what desire will make foolish people do<br>No, I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you  
>I'll never dream that I lose somebody like you, no<em>

On the word 'lose' Blaine finally broke. The strength he had been feigning for Kurt dissolved and there was nothing he could do to regain it. Tears streamed down his face and he held Kurt to him as tight as he could. He plunged his head into Kurt's shoulder, singing through the spasms that wracked his frame.

_Now I wanna fall in love  
><em>_this world is always gonna break your heart_

His hands gripped at Kurt's waist trying fruitlessly to hold onto a part of him that was intangible.

_Now I wanna fall in love  
><em>_this world is always gonna break your heart__  
>..with you<em>

He shook his head back and forth, he loved Kurt too much this couldn't be happening…

_this world is always gonna break your heart__  
><em>_this world is always gonna break your heart__  
><em>_this world is always gonna break your heart_

The phrase echoed around the room, lingering in their minds as each dried tears from their eyes.

Blaine pressed a kiss to the top of Kurt's head and extricated himself from in position between the headboard and Kurt's warm body. He laid Kurt down gently, sitting beside him so he could see the boy's pale face.

They stared at each other for a long time, not saying a word. Eyes locked in a way that spoke for them.

"Blaine," Kurt finally said in a small voice, "Blaine, I'm so cold."

Blaine put a hand to Kurt's forehead and felt fever boiling beneath the skin. "You're burning up, I'm going to get—"

"No! Don't go." Kurt's hand locked like a vice on his arm.

"Shhh, okay, I'm just going to call for someone, I'm not leaving." He prized Kurt's hand off his wrist and sprinted for the door.

"HEY CAN SOMEO—" Shane, who had been sitting outside the door where he had been assigned sentry duty, sprang up. "I need a cloth with cold water, and a water bottle." His brother hurried away and

Blaine turned back to the room.

Kurt's eyes were hardly open and he shook violently as chills ran up and down his spine. Blaine quickly wrapped him in blankets, leaving only his head uncovered. He brushed comforting fingers across Kurt's damp forehead and the boy allowed his eyes to close.

When Shane returned Blaine folded the cloth and placed it on Kurt's forehead, Kurt gasped at the sudden cool sensation and opened his mouth willingly for Blaine to pour water into it.

"Do you want to sleep?" Blaine asked soothingly, stroking the side of Kurt's face. Kurt nodded hesitantly.

"You won't leave will you?" His eyes were tiny slits of cerulean under his drooping lids.

"No." crooned Blaine gently stroking Kurt's hair, "I'll be right here."

"But what if I…?"

"Shhh," Blaine murmured. "I can take care of myself."

Kurt allowed his muscles to relax becoming completely limp in his cocoon of blankets, "Tell Evan and Ethan that the recipe to my cookies is folded in the second kitchen drawer to the right."

A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of Blaine's mouth, it amazed him the way Kurt was able to add a bit of lightness to such a dark moment.

Before he knew it the boy was sliding into unconsciousness. But he battle for a second more; long enough to whisper, "I love you Blaine Anderson." Blaine wasn't even sure if Kurt heard his responding "I love you too Kurt Hummel" before he slipped into the numb darkness of oblivion.

Blaine looked at the boy lying on the bed; he looked so much smaller, and younger. His skin stretched a little too tightly over his cheek bones so that it was almost transparent, his eyes were swollen and red, and his face drawn with sorrow but miraculously free of creases.

How could someone so pure and beautiful transform into a mindless blood thirsty monster? How could that happen to Kurt? _No,_ thought Blaine, this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. _Couldn't they take me instead?_

But Blaine knew that no matter how hard he wished, it would not change the fact that the boy in the bed was infected, and every second the virus pumped further and further through his body bringing him closer to becoming one of those horrifying monsters Blaine had no choice but to kill.

He ran a clammy hand over his forehead. He had no more tears left to shed but he felt drained. All he wanted to do was curl up next to Kurt and fall asleep but he knew the result would be disastrous.

It shouldn't be too long now, Mr. Schue had transformed in about two hours and it had been nearly that.

Blaine grazed his lips gently across Kurt's temple and adjusted the cloth, one side of which as burning with the extremely high body heat Kurt was releasing. That was strange, Blaine thought, he would have assumed Kurt would go cold and clammy like a corpse not burn up.

He stepped quickly across the room and cracked open the door, relieved to see his brother was still there, "Can you get Dwight for me?"

Shane grimaced and Blaine could read his thoughts clearly, but that wasn't why he needed Dwight, not yet anyways.

Blaine crawled back on the bed and moments later Dwight, flanked by the Tweedles entered. Blaine glared at the long slender knife Dwight held aloft. The hunter sighed and sheathed the blade, "I won't use it until its necessary Blaine, but I won't agree to be in this room unarmed."

Blaine nodded and the three boys stepped up to the bedside.

"He's burning up," Blaine whispered eyes fixed on the sleeping waxen face.

"Burning up?" the confusion in Dwight's voice made Blaine look up.

"Is that not normal?"

Dwight stared at Kurt with wide eyes, "As far as I know the body temperature is supposed to drop to the point the vital organs can no longer operate, at that point the virus takes over all brain control. It happened to Mr. Schue in what I would estimate to be one hour and fifty minutes. From that point the blood slowly dries up in what I would guess to be a three to five day period… but I'm not sure, it only takes twenty-four hours for mice."

Blaine stared unashamedly at the lanky shaggy boy speaking. "What does this mean then?"

Dwight shrugged, spraying his hand with holy water and reaching out to feel the heated skin of Kurt's face, "I honestly have no clue. We'll have to wait and see."

A small bubble of what was startlingly like hope rose in Blaine's chest but he squashed it quickly, there's no telling what any of this meant and it was no use getting hopeful just to have his hopes dashed.

The next few hours were the longest of Blaine's life.

Everyone held their breath as they passed the two hour mark, but Kurt didn't stir. He even looked less pale his face flushing with fever. In the midst of fitful sleep Kurt's face contorted painfully and Blaine realized with a sinking feeling that Kurt was in just as much danger of dying from the fever that was burning up his system as turning into a zombie.

He flung the blankets off Kurt's body and bid Evan and Ethan to get more cloths and cool water. In the meantime he drizzled some of the water bottle over Kurt's forehead.

The Twins were back in a flash, a stack of cool damp towels and a thermometer in their hands. Blaine began applying the cloths: a fresh one to Kurt's forehead, one to his throat, one on each wrist and one behind each knee. Dwight coaxed the thermometer into Kurt's mouth and shivered when he pulled it out to read "105 degrees" out loud. Blaine felt as if someone had punched him in the gut.

They waited fifteen minutes, airing the clothes out and flipping them to the cool side one by one. At the end of fifteen minutes they took Kurt's temperature again but it remained unchanged.

Blaine cursed under his breath and drizzled more cool water over Kurt's forehead.

"Blaine," Dwight said tentatively, "you do realize that even if we do save him from this fever he'll probably still transform…"

Blaine glared at him, "We are well past the one hour and fifty minute mark, don't you think he would have changed by now?" Dwight shrugged but Blaine cut him off before he could explain that things like this were often irregular. "I'm not giving up on him if there is still a glimmering of a chance he's going to make it." And Dwight didn't dare to question the ferocity blazing in his eyes.

They waited ten minutes longer, Blaine fidgeting uselessly, there was nothing he could do and it was driving him crazy. Finally he broke down, "We should check his temperature again."

104.9 degrees.

Still too high Blaine winced, they needed to take more drastic action. He leaned over the boy who was now breathing rather heavily, "Kurt, Kurt can you hear me? Wake up." The feverish boy did not respond.

Blaine stamped the ground in frustration, "We need to get a fever reducer in him." He shook his head wildly and decided on the next best thing, "Dwight go run a shower, cool but not too cold." The boy nodded and took off. Blaine turned to the Twins, "Help me carry him."

Kurt wasn't very heavy, even as dead weight, but he was taller than Blaine, and the boy was glad to have the assistance of the taller stronger boys as they carried Kurt down the hallway. Dwight held open the bathroom door and the group shuffled through the doorway. Evan and Ethan held Kurt upright as Blaine carefully stripped off the boy's shirt and pants. He left Kurt's underwear on, knowing that at a time like this Kurt would still want to keep his dignity. Then, slipping off his own shoes, and with the help of Evan, he brought Kurt into the shower and under the stream of cool water.

Blaine wasn't sure how long they spent in that shower. Evan and Ethan switched off every few minutes to rest their arms but Blaine never moved. He stayed shaking in the stream of cool water which drenched his clothes and plastered his hair to his head. After what felt like an eternity they took Kurt's temperature and Blaine breathed a sigh of relief when the thermometer read 102.6 degrees.

They were getting there but the infection Kurt was fighting wasn't giving up easily. When they took Kurt's temperature again it was hardly any lower. Finally after what Blaine could have sworn was several long days Kurt's temperature read 100.2 and Blaine deemed it safe enough to take him out of the shower.

They carried Kurt back to his room, still sopping wet and trailing puddles of water down the hallway.

Blaine asked the other boys to wait outside as he dried Kurt off. He stripped off the Kurt's wet underwear and replaced them with dry ones, a pair of light weight gym shorts (Blaine's, Kurt would never allow himself to own such "monstrosities"), and a thin t-shirt. He towel dried Kurt's hair smiling a bit at how Kurt would cringe, but Blaine wanted Kurt to be comfortably dry and a hair dryer was out of the question.

Once Kurt was seen to Blaine stripped out of his own sopping clothes and dried himself hurriedly with a towel before putting on dry ones.

He knelt by the bed and placed a hand on Kurt's forehead. If he wasn't mistaken the moisture that greeted his touch was perspiration not shower water. Kurt felt cooler than before. Blaine smiled, the fever had broken. He stared down at the now peacefully sleeping boy. The flush of fever had mostly drained, but his face had not returned to the sickly grey pallor it had been before, it looked almost normal and definitely alive.

Blaine went to the door and ushered Dwight and the Twins in. Dwight inspected the sleeping boy, noting none of the telltale transformation signs and rubbing his head completely baffled. The trio left bidding Blaine to call them if he needed help or if anything changed.

Blaine collapsed in a chair utterly fatigued but comforted by the warm glow of hope that floated in his chest.

* * *

><p>The curtains were drawn but a few orange rays of the sunset slipped in through the cracks, mixing with the warm lamp light that illuminated a corner of the room. The room was silent except for the deep breathing of the boy in the bed and the occasional rustle of turning pages.<p>

"Hello?"

Blaine dropped the book he had hardly been able to concentrate on and raced to the bed, "Kurt!"

"Blaine is that you?" His voice was so small and frightened.

"Yes Kurt honey," he soothed, taking Kurt's hand in his.

"Blaine," his voice quavered, impossibly tiny and vulnerable, "am I dead?"

"No, Kurt. You're fine. You made it." His voice swelled with emotion as he ran a hand over Kurt's blessedly cool forehead.

"How?" Kurt asked feebly.

"Don't worry about that now honey. Get some more sleep. I'll tell you everything when you wake up." He squeezed Kurt's hand, letting go so that the boy could get some sleep.

"Blaine?"

Blaine halted his progress across the room, "Yes?"

"Lay with me?"

"Of course," he said and crawled onto the bed. Kurt nuzzled into the familiar feeling of Blaine's body, balling up into the curve of his torso and throwing an arm around his waist.

Blaine felt his lip tremble as the miraculously alive boy pulled him close. He had never thought this would happen again and as the thought went through his head a single tear trickled down his cheek. Kurt was alive! He bit the inside of his cheek so not to shout for joy and disturb the recovering boy. He gently kissed the crown of Kurt's head a murmured, "I love you Kurt Hummel." And judging by the content hum Kurt made, this time he definitely heard.

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter: I don't really have a sneak peek for you guys but it will suffice for me to say that it is the calm before the storm.<strong>


	7. Crawling Toward the Sun

I feel like every time I update I leave a bunch of excuses and apologies... old habits die hard.

First of all, sorry it took so long I just got back to school and went through super time consuming training for two weeks.

Second of all, this is kind of a nothing chapter so I apologize for that too. I felt I owed it to the boys to give them a bit of a break, and hopefully you will enjoy a brief respite from all the zombie slaying.

There will only be one more chapter after this one whooooooo! (There will probably also be a brief epilogue but I'm not sure if that will be published seperate from the next chapter or not)

Thank you so much for reading, I hope my erratic posting and inconsistency haven't bothered you too much.

Now for a bit of shameless promoting! My good friend AOleander and I have written a Harry Potter/Klaine crossover fic called "I believe in all magic" over at the Kurt_Blaine Live journal. Please check it out, I promise it is much better quality than this :) ( won't let me post a link, sorry.)

Thanks for all the reviews this fic would not have been completed without them!

As always I do not own Glee. This fic is based on CP Coulter's Dalton and all other characters belong to her.

* * *

><p>The glowing mouth of the reading lamp faced the bed, flooding the rumpled sheets with warm, yellow light. A boy lay on his side in the celestial glow, his back curved gracefully and his head nestled into a pillow. His brown hair was combed and soft, but unstyled so that it rested around his face in a disorderly crown. His smooth skin looked like delicate porcelain in the gentle light and a delicate rosy flush graced his cheeks. A thin hard backed book lay open on the bed next to his loosely curled fingers.<p>

He appeared a picture of casual serenity, but when considered closely the peace was marked with subtle signs of weariness. The porcelain face bore thin lines spreading from the corners of the eyes, his lips seemed pursed a little too tightly, and the way his body curled in on itself revealed a need for comfort rather than natural fatigue.

Blaine tip-toed across the room, he had been forced to leave for about thirty minutes to talk to Charlie. Every second had been excruciating and he had put off lunch to come back upstairs and curl up next to the boy.

Blaine closed the book and set it on the floor as Kurt's eye lids fluttered, "Hey."

"Hey," Blaine breathed settling next to Kurt on the bed.

Kurt raised his head a few inches, fixing Blaine with a small smile, "What's going on?"

"Not much, just the usual chaos of a day here."

Kurt pushed himself up onto his elbows, "Anything I can do?" his tone was a little too enthusiastic.

Blaine looked at his boyfriend who was still so frail, "I don't think so Kurt."

The recovering boy allowed himself to fall back on the pillows with a huff, "Blaine…" he whined, disgruntled, "I've been stuck in this bed forever."

Blaine grimaced, "You're still weak, Kurt." The boy in the bed groaned.

Blaine's heart gave an involuntary twinge, he knew it was irrational, but he didn't like the thought of Kurt leaving that room, where he couldn't protect him, where he might lose him again. Blaine slipped off his shoes and snuggled down next to Kurt, wrapping his arms protectively around the boy.

"Stay here with me." There was something so vulnerable in the way Blaine's voice cracked then tapered away into silence that Kurt couldn't find the heart to protest but accepted the warmth of his boyfriend's body against his.

Blaine had been at Kurt's side every possible second since the infected boy woke up two days prior. He had taken Kurt's near death experience harder than Kurt had. But Kurt couldn't blame him, in the accounts he had heard of the hours were he had burned somewhere between life and death Blaine had been through a lot. Yet, despite the terror Blaine had kept his head and Kurt owed his life to Blaine's determination, level headedness, and unwillingness to let him slip away.

Sighing, Kurt moved into Blaine's warmth, "You can't keep me here forever you know."

Blaine raised a thick eyebrow, "Oh can't I?"

Suddenly his lips were on Kurt's, moving gently but at the same time with urgency. One hand traced down the side of Kurt's body, feeling every contour, reaching under fabric, brushing against skin. Kurt felt himself melt into Blaine as the dark haired, soft lipped boy kissed down his neck.

"I love you Kurt," he murmured against the tender skin of Kurt's neck. And as Kurt returned the words he felt that he would be absolutely fine with Blaine keeping him there forever.

* * *

><p>It was two days since the near tragedy with Kurt had left Windsor shaken but Kurt more or less alive. The days had passed rather quietly. Things had long since fallen into a regular pattern and nothing occurred to shake them from the relative placidness of their days. The new fire employing defenses kept any threateningly large congregations of zombies away and Pav was no longer free to wreak havoc. Sure, Rachel had tightened the food rations as a precautionary measure, but everyone still went to bed with full stomachs and a feeling of relative safety.<p>

There had been one other major change. Despite Kurt's recovery, an aura of distinct hopelessness had settled over the house. Now that they had all their basic needs covered people were starting to ask the harder questions, what if they were stuck there for months? Years? They weren't actively trying to escape or even better their situation.

Charlie's leadership instincts kicked in and he came up with a new goal. They weren't going to wait for the danger to come to them, they were going to eradicate the danger. So they began training.

It was now 3:00 and the sun light was balmy as it slanted brightly across the slightly yellowing grass in front of Windsor. The occupants of the house, who were not occupied with daily chores, were spread across the lawn, participating in various defensive exercises.

Reed stood across from Shane on the lawn. He was wielding a baseball bat, rendered slightly less deadly by a pillow like covering constructed by the Twins for training purposes. Reed patted and prodded Shane gingerly with the weapon.

"Come on Reed! You're going to have to take a real swing at me if this is going to do you any good!" Shane beamed as Reed cringed. Motioning for Reed to strike him again, the taller boy planted his feet firmly on the ground and bent his knees.

Trembling slightly, the petite boy tapped Shane lightly on the chest.

"Come on Reed, you can do better than that!"

Reed let out a cry of exasperation and swung without aiming.

The swing connected with Shane's jaw. The dancer yelped and his hands flew up to his face.

Reed dropped the bat, "Shane!" he reached for him just as the boy dropped to his knees. "Shane! Shane? Are you alright?"

The boy didn't answer.

"Shane!" the Reed howled, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He continued with a stream of urgent apologies.

Shane just looked at him with wide eyes and lips pressed firmly together.

Reed took a deep breath, calming himself, "Can I see it?"

Shane hesitantly released his hands. The skin was unmarred but slightly pink.

Shane tilted his cheek toward the other boy. Reed took the hint and carefully brought his lips down to brush across the reddened cheek. At the last minute, Shane twisted his head with unexpected speed so that their lips met.

The boy who had only been feigning injury laughed with delight. Hilarity bounced around his twinkling eyes as Reed stumbled backward in surprise. Shane began to howl with mirth as the look on Reed's face morphed from concern, to understanding, to at last anger.

"Shane Anderson!" he shouted, "You are going to pay for that!" He jumped to his feet, grabbing the baseball bat. Shane was faster and took off like a road runner. A wild chase ensued that wove in and out of the sparing groups on the lawn.

"Well that's one way to make the Dormouse fight back," Wes laughed as he turned back to Brittany and Santana.

"Let's try this again. So if Santana is a zombie and she grabs you on the shoulder Brittany –" following his instructions, Santana brought a hand to tightly grasp Brittany's shoulder, "How will you escape?"

Brittany just shrugged and stared blankly at Wes.

"Try ducking to the right."

Brittany took a step to the right but did nothing to dislodge Santana's hand.

"Brittany," Wes said patiently, "the point is to get _away _from Santana."

She smiled sweetly at him and began to explain as if he were a child, "March Hare, I don't want to get away from Santana, she's my friend."

Wes nodded kindly, "I know, but for the purposes of training we need to pretend she is a zombie."

Brittany shook her head and her ponytail swung back and forth, "She smells too pretty." Santana smirked behind her friend's back.

Wes sighed, "Well, I guess I'll –" he placed his hands on her shoulders. Brittany went off like a firework. Two seconds later Wes was pinned to the ground and she sat cross legged on his back, smiling placidly.

Santana laughed openly, clutching her side in mirth as several other people turned to snicker at the scene before them.

Brittany smiled and stood up, patting Wes on the head like an obedient puppy as she did so.

"I guess you don't really need any help," Wes mumbled into the grass.

Brittany good naturedly helped him up, congratulating him with an earnest, "good job" that made Wes squint in confusion.

"Come on," Santana beckoned as she locked pinkies with the other girl, "Let's go snag some food and let Berry catch us so she flips a bitch again."

The two girls wandered off, their arms swinging between them.

Wes glanced over to his right and caught the gaze of two sets of humorously sparkling blue eyes. "Hey", he said defensively, "I could have stopped her if I wanted."

The Tweedles burst into peels of raucous laughter and turned away.

Logan examined the hand crafted bow in his hands as he waited for the identical boys to calm themselves.

"Did you guys really make this?" he finally asked, scrutinizing every side of the weapon.

"Of course we did knave!"

"We made three!"

"Products of the last time we chose to read The Lord of the Rings."

"We never planned on letting others use them—"

"They took us months."

"But you know –"

"Desperate times call for sacrifices from us all," they exclaimed together.

Logan looked back at the bow in his hands, it was surprisingly well made. The limbs were smooth and of a good weight, the string taught and sturdy, and the half dozen or so arrows they handed him were straight and well balanced. If anything, the bow was a bit too springy, but none the less an impressive creation. Knowing the Brightman twins, Logan guessed they had extensively researched and painstakingly perfected every detail. The Brightmans were beyond dedicated to the projects they undertook.

"Try it Knave!" the Tweedles urged, practically bouncing in anticipation.

Logan knocked an arrow into place. He had always been good at archery, a favorite hobby of his father's. His experience showed as the arrow whistled cleanly through the air, missing the target just barely. After a few more practice rounds he could squarely hit the Tweedles makeshift target with every shot.

"Bravo!"

"Excellent!" The Tweedles showered him with exuberant applause.

Logan handed the bow back to Ethan. He was feeling rather proud and self-satisfied. Everyone had stopped to watch his last few shots and he received much praise as he walked past the training groups to the house.

As he reached the steps he passed by the only pair that seemed to have missed his performance. Reed and Shane were collapsed on the steps. Shane had wrestled the bat from his companion and now held it high above his head in one hand. His other hand was employed in dancing up and down Reed's ribs. The straw berry blond haired artist was incapacitated with laughter.

"I surrender! I surrender!" Reed squealed.

Shane smiled, ended the tortuous tickling and extricated himself from the tangle of Reed's limbs. "Alright," his lips curved slyly then he ducked down to kiss Reed before sprinting up the stairs and into the house leaving Reed breathless and flushed, but looking more than a little pleased.

* * *

><p>"Blaine!" voices hissed through the door.<p>

Blaine rubbed his forehead tiredly and glared at the door.

"You gonna get that?" Kurt asked, swallowing a mouthful of sandwich.

"What do you guys want?"

"We need to talk to you talk to you, White Rabbit!"

Blaine bit his lip and glanced down at his boyfriend. Kurt snorted, he knew that look too well. "Blaine, the excitement of having a few people in our room isn't going to make me choke on my grilled cheese or relapse into a raging fever." Blaine cringed at the thought but nodded in agreement.

"Come in!" they called in unison, and the door burst open.

"Hullo!" the Tweedles beamed, skipping into the room, Charlie strode in behind them.

Kurt smiled from where he was propped against the head board, "Hey guys!"

"Alice!" they rushed over to the bedside and ruffled the invalid's hair playfully, "We've missed you!"

Blaine felt a little of the worry which pressed so heavily on his chest lighten as he saw Kurt smile. He kept his eye trained on his boyfriend's face but there was no strain, no sign that he was being overwhelmed. Blaine knew he was being silly to protect Kurt so much, but he was afraid of what over exertion would do to him in this fragile state, so he had carefully monitored the visitors allowed in their room. The Twins had so far not been granted access, seeing as they had enough energy to overwhelm the healthiest of people in a matter of seconds.

"He does look a bit more zombie-ish don't you think Ethan?" Evan commented, scrutinizing Kurt's face.

"Yeah it's something about his eyes, and his skin has that sort of decayed look."

Kurt's eyes grew wide with terror and his mouth fell open. The Tweedles dropped their serious facades and positively rolled with laughter.

"Blaine, Blaine," Kurt gasped urgently, "hand me that mirror, hand me that mirror!"

"Kurt," Blaine tried to sound soothing while glaring at the laughing boys, "they're just pulling your leg, you look fine."

Kurt, however, would not be satisfied until he saw the mirror. His breathing calmed as he ghosted his fingertips over the lines at the corners of his eyes and his sunken cheeks. "Well I might not look exactly like a zombie, but I have definitely suffered from not doing my moisturizing routine these past few days."

Blaine removed the mirror from Kurt's hands and kissed him lightly on the forehead, "I still think you look beautiful."

The Twins 'aw'ed and Charlie smiled at the two boys. "Nice to see you're recovering Kurt," he said before turning back to the Brightmans, "Now why did you want to talk to us?"

The identical boys winked at each other then smiled at the others in the room, "We want to throw a party."

"What!" Blaine spluttered.

Kurt's brow creased in confusion.

Charlie's mouth hung open slightly.

"We want to throw a party." The Twins reiterated, smiles unwavering.

A disbelieving, confused silence hung in the room until the prefect finally broke it, "That actually might not be a bad idea."

Now Kurt and Blaine's eyes turned with confusion to Chaz.

"Think about it, things have been relatively calm, and we've given people hope with this new 'fight back' initiative, now we just need something to boost morale. A party might be just the thing."

Kurt and Blaine nodded, that made sense….

"Of course it would have to be during the day so that no one would have to be on duty, and we can't use excess food…"

The Twins were already nodding enthusiastically, "Don't worry Red Queen, we've got all the details figured out! Leave it to us! Spread the word, party tomorrow, starting at noon." They high-fived and sprinted from the room.

* * *

><p>Windsor was afire, and for once it was a good thing. People hurried around well into the night, getting chores done and tidying up, all the while chattering excitedly to one another. The proposal of a party had already raised the collective spirits of the group higher than Chaz could have ever dreamt.<p>

Apparently the Twins plans were far more extensive than the other boys had anticipated. After dinner they pushed everyone out of the kitchen and living room, proclaiming that no one was allowed to step foot in either room until the party the next afternoon.

Everyone had found their own way to prepare for the party. The boys made sure they were clean shaven, Sam even let Mercedes take a few inches off his hair which had become shaggily long.

The girls mulled over what they could wear. They had been stranded at Dalton with only the clothes on their backs. After it became apparent they were going to be stuck there for more than a few days the Windsor boys had offered up their extra clothing to everyone in New Directions. The girls had become used to wearing t-shirts and bits and pieces of Dalton uniforms. But for this special occasion they pulled out the old outfits they had worn to the concert. The dresses and skirts they had worn on the fateful night…

* * *

><p>When Kurt woke up it was already 10:00. He cursed silently, he had been hoping to have more than two hours to get ready, especially since he knew he would be flooded with girls asking for advice and second opinions.<p>

Kurt stumbled out of bed and stretched, he still felt weaker than normal, but was at least very well rested. His stomach grumbled and he decided that he was hungry enough to brave the exterior of his room while still in pajamas.

At the end of the hallway Kurt found a card table covered in a yellow cloth with a matching vase of sunflowers placed in the center. The table was laden with two large, steaming pots of oat meal and a basket that looked like it contained what was left of the apples. A piece of paper covered with sporadic, loopy hand writing read:

Here is your breakfast! Please do not come down stairs as we are hard at work.

~ The Tweedles

Kurt smiled to himself and ladled one of the empty cups full of hot breakfast. He allowed himself to wander leisurely back to his room and eat the oatmeal before he got into gear. Once he was done he was off like a shot, within an hour he had showered, selected his outfit and styled his hair perfectly (with the help of much hairspray).

"Have I ever told you that you take my breath away?" Kurt spun around, he hadn't heard the door open but there stood Blaine framed in the doorway, looking dashing in a classic black suit and skinny tie. His eyes were bright and shiny and filled with so much raw adoration that Kurt looked down at his hands and blushed. However, he couldn't keep his eyes averted for long, not with Blaine in those pants that fit him so well and that jacket which accentuated his shoulders. Even the casual way in which he leaned against the door frame made Kurt's heart pound a little louder.

"You look amazing Blaine." He breathed.

A flush blossomed over Blaine's cheeks, "Aw come on Kurt, I'm the one that's supposed to be complimenting you right now."

"So you're going to deny me all the fun?" Kurt raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Of course not," Blaine replied with a knowing smile. "I have something for you." And with that he exposed the hand that had been hidden behind his back. In it he held an absolutely gorgeous spray of flowers. Rich plum purple and raspberry red sweet pea blossoms tangled with the pure white of Chilean jasmine, baby's breath poked hopefully through the gaps between other blooms, and yellow freesias dotted the bouquet like drops of dew reflecting the golden light of morning.

"Oh Blaine!" Kurt gasped.

The shorter boy breeched the gap between them and handed the bouquet to his boyfriend, "I wasn't sure what type you would like… they were all so pretty… but I know you like… well I just picked what…"

Kurt's shockingly azure eyes widened as he realized that the stunningly handsome boy who he happened to love unconditionally was actually getting flustered. In all the confusion of late he had forgotten that he could put Blaine in that state.

He stared fondly at his struggling boyfriend, a smile turning up the corner of his lips, "Blaine Anderson, stop talking and kiss me."

Blaine obeyed.

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes later it was time. Kurt straightened his bow tie and took one last look in the mirror. He liked the way the slate grey of his suit complimented his skin tone. He took a quick sniff of the freesia Blaine had pinned to his lapel and he was ready.<p>

Hand in hand Kurt and Blaine exited their room. People had begun to congregate in the hallway, as the Twins had not yet given permission for the group to go down stairs.

The excitement in the room was tangible. Girls hugged each other, squealing, while guys gave each other thumbs up or thumped each other hard on the back.

Everyone was eager to greet Kurt and Blaine, apparently almost dying made him even more of a favorite than he was before.

They had hardly had time to meander through the crowd when the Twins voices called up the stairs. "Alright everyone, you may begin the decent!"

An anticipatory hush fell as they proceeded down the stairs.

No one from New Directions had expected much, just a boom box and a couple of sodas. They were used to making a lot from a little. Everyone from Dalton had expected something a bit insane, they knew the Twins and their ability to cause chaos and make an event out of nothing. Neither group had expected to find the common room decked out in voluminous white and gold fabric and looking like they had literally stepped into the clouds.

Kurt instantly recognized the fabric as the formal curtains and table clothes that the house used for special events. The curtains were draped expertly over sofas and tables, hanging from the walls, bunched into billows over the mantle, and heaped like puddles of clouds in the corners of the room. The effect was astounding; it felt like they were in some divine ballroom perhaps upon Mt. Olympus. All the furniture had been rearranged to leave a large portion of the finely polished oak floor for dancing. Something that looked suspiciously like silver and gold confetti sparkled on the floor under the light of what looked like at least fifteen lamps placed around the edges of the room. A long table in the corner was draped in an airy blue fabric and set with bowls and plates.

Everyone was speechless.

"So what do you think?" the Twins grinned, looking like angels in matching sea foam green suits.

Kurt wasn't sure who started it but suddenly everyone was applauding. Evan and Ethan took swooping bows then gestured grandly, "Let the mindless frivolity begin!"

And begin it did. Music, catchy and upbeat, pounded from two gold wrapped towers that looked suspiciously like speakers. Many couples raced to dance. Others strolled around the dance floor admiring the decorations.

"Well boys you've certainly out done yourselves." Blaine smiled, the soft skin around his eyes crinkling in genuine pleasure as he lead Kurt over to the Brightmans.

The boys nodded graciously and Kurt added, "I have to say you put my own party planning skills to shame." Evan and Ethan smirked and Kurt hastily added, "I will never make you cookies again if you repeat that."

"Oh don't worry Alice!" Evan thumped him lightly on the back, "Maybe someday we will teach you all our magic." The boys waved their fingers mysteriously and skipped away laughing.

Blaine and Kurt turned to the dance floor, unlinking their arms and instead twining their fingers together. At this moment Kurt felt no strong urge to join the rhythmically moving bodies on the dance floor; he was content watching his friends.

Finn and Puck were at the center of the floor bobbing dorkily and pulling out old school moves that were endearingly unflattering (although Kurt had to admit Puck could make anything look good when he chose to add a body roll to it). Wes and Lauren danced up to them and the four formed a little circle, rocking out like the fun loving nerds they were.

Kurt giggled when he spotted Rachel and Mercedes belting along with the song as they shimmied and snapped their fingers with attitude.

Then Kurt's eyes landed on something that gave him pause. Quinn and Chaz were dancing together. Really dancing _together_. Chaz's hands were resting on either side of the girl's tiny waist as she swung her hips back and forth, her arms drapped over his shoulders. As Kurt watched Charlie traced his hands up Quinn's side to her arms she let her hands slide down to meet his. The prefect stepped in with a smooth salsa move that Kurt would have expected to be awkward but was surprisingly graceful. He spun Quinn around and she giggled.

Kurt realized he was staring and quickly looked away. Quinn and Chaz? Sure there were no definite signs that something romantic was going on but they looked for too comfortable with each other to have seen as little of each other as Kurt assumed they had.

Then it hit him. He had known everyone in this house from day one. There were no new people for him to meet, very few opportunities for previously unrealized friendships to blossom. The same was not true with everyone else. Sure, most everyone had vaguely known each other through Kurt, but now bonds between them had grown in their own right. The weeks of working together, eating together, and living together, had birthed friendships that Kurt had either been too busy or too thick to notice before.

He watched as Puck and Wes high-fived, as Reed waved at Mercedes from across the dance floor, and as Sam, Justin, Artie, and Baily reclined on the couches in casual conversation. Suddenly he felt warmth spread across his chest and he smiled. It was nice to know that even in a time like this friendship found root.

A new song started and Kurt felt Blaine bouncing to the beat next to him. He graced his boyfriend with an adoring smile. "Do you want to dance?"

Blaine shrugged, "Only if you want to." Kurt knew that the compassionate boy was just trying to make sure Kurt didn't push himself too far and that inside he was desperately wishing he could race out there and make a fool of himself.

Kurt was about to allow his boyfriend to lead him onto the dance floor, when the Tweedles demanded the attention of the room.

"Now that the party has properly began –" Evan shouted.

"We would like to officially welcome everyone." Ethan finished for him.

"Welcome!" They cried throwing their arms wide as if embracing everyone in the room.

"Now we will be bringing out the food momentarily."

"Please remember that even though this is a party, we are still on rations so only take your fair share."

"Except for the candy and icecream."

"Yeah that's not in the list of necessary food."

"So you can basically stuff yourself."

"Eat as much of that crap as you damn well want."

"Also," Evan directed the attention to the boy standing next to them grasping an iPod in each hand, "Baily is in charge of the music, song requests go to him."

"And we have karaoke tracks." This brought a cheer from the crowd.

"Tons of karaoke tracks."

"You know the words, we have the track."

Then with hands raised triumphantly they shouted, "Let the party recommence."

Kurt was actually mildly impressed by the food: a taco bar. Beans, Mexican rice, ground beef, and salsa. None of it was of course fresh, it had all been canned or frozen, but the Twins had prepared it well, adding plenty of extra seasonings.

The end of the banquet table was heaping with sweets, chocolate bars, gummy candy, pixie sticks, M&Ms, and four large tubs of ice cream. Kurt had heard tell of the Twins' hidden candy stash but he had never expected it to be so expansive.

Everyone loaded up their plates and dug in. As they ate they exclaimed loudly about the deliciousness of the food, complimenting the sent and raving about the flavors until they had all half convinced themselves it was the best meal they had ever tasted.

Full of food and energy the party continued with new enthusiasm. The music bumped well through the mid-part of the day.

Rachel did at least 5 rounds of karaoke, some alone, and one extremely exuberant duet with Blaine.

Finn looked like he was going for the world record in ice cream eating as the Twins cheered him on with intense amusement.

Logan, to the surprise of all the Dalton students, looked like he was genuinely having fun and even more shockingly, with Santana who also seemed to be enjoying herself. They spent the first part of the party shooting snarky comments at each other, but soon mutual respect for each other's sense of humor and personalities in general formed. They spent most of the party on the edge of the dance floor, whispering behind their hands, and clutching their sides with laughter.

The two Anderson brothers were on either side of the dance floor. Shane was making a point to "accidentally" brush against the petite cherub dancing next to him. Each time he saved the angelic boy from falling he held him a little closer and a little longer; Reed didn't mind.

On the other side of the dance floor Blaine was alive with the pounding beat of the bass and the brush of Kurt's body against his. Kurt was running on complete euphoria and grinning like a fool as Blaine spun him around and they danced close.

It was around his time that Mercedes and Brittany finished their version of "Beautiful Liar" and Evan and Ethan took over the microphones.

The song that started was peppy and bright. The type of music that makes you want to jump around and wave your hands like a little kid.

Evan smiled at the crowd of people bouncing around happily before him as he took the first verse.

Carousels make laps each night  
>Like drunks we spin until were sick<p>

Ethan hip checked his brother and eagerly took up the melody.

Creepy clowns from one horse towns  
>Can make their livings on a trick<p>

The song hadn't even been playing for a full minute and people were already getting carried away. Wes and Sam were robo-copping on one sofa, while Logan and Santana party-boyed on the other. Quinn and Chaz were doing some type of wild swing dance, and Reed and Shane were a blur as they twirled around energetically.

Now the two boy's voices joined together in perfect harmony.

Night covers all our tracks  
>To break some fragile backs<br>So we tell some lies  
>And then we hide from light<p>

Evan and Ethan made their way to the center of the room, jumping around to the beat of the music and waving their free hands in the air.

Kurt stepped away from Blaine arching his eyebrows teasingly. He dragged his hands up the side of his body as he wiggled his hips in a way he knew Blaine couldn't resist. Sure enough Blaine let out a yearning groan that was masked by the music and pulled Kurt so that they could dance with their bodies against each other.

One night I fell asleep and woke up on that sunny street  
>At first I thought I couldn't but now I see<br>That the shadows kept me hidden  
>From the light that calls my name<br>All the creatures stood above me  
>Now I'm crawling towards the sun<p>

Rachel grabbed Finn's hand urging him to dance. He complied, moving awkwardly but enthusiastically across the floor.

Candy lips that taste to sweet  
>Were sour in the summer heat<br>As the night fell I heard church bells  
>Say its time to leave<p>

Out on the town we went  
>To carry out missions<br>Neither you or I would ever know sunlight

In the night light we still shine bright

As the pace of the song slowed Kurt leaned into Blaine, the ecstasy of movement still flowed through his veins but he was quickly tiring.

In the night light we still shine bright

Blaine could feel the boy slouching against him; he could sense the fatigue that was creeping through his bones and his flesh. Without a word he held Kurt tighter, and as they danced he sent a silent plea to the universe that he would always be there to support Kurt when he was too weak to sand on his own.

In the night light we still shine bright.

They did shine bright, these young men and women who were hardly more than kids, but had already lost so much and fought so hard. They spent their days blazing with determination and strength, but in this moment they simply swayed and turned, letting the music roll away the stress and the pain.

One night I fell asleep and woke up on that sunny street  
>At first I thought I couldn't but now I see<br>That the shadows kept me hidden  
>From the light that calls my name<br>All the creatures stood above me  
>Now I'm crawling towards the sun<p>

Deep down they each hoped they were crawling toward the sun. They hoped that soon this dark night through which they struggled would pass and they would stand blinking in the blinding brightness of a new day. But for the moment they held onto the small immediate joys, not daring to think too far ahead.

As the song came to a close, Brittany leapt gracefully from the couch turning in a pirouette before making her way across the room. She dropped down in front of a chair and sat cross legged on the floor, cocking her head at the boy who sat there.

Julian raised an eyebrow at the girl who looked inquiringly at him.

"Why are you the Cheshire Cat if you don't smile?"

Julian looked taken aback, "I do smile… I'm famous for my smile…"

"Then how come I never see you smile."

Julian flashed one of his broad, glittering smiles, "Is that better?" he asked.

Brittany studied his expression closely "No. I can't see your heart in your eyes."

Julian opened his mouth to ask her what the hell that was supposed to mean but the girl's next question threw him off guard.

"Why don't you just go dance with him?"

"What?" Julian spluttered, "Dance with who?"

"The Knave." Brittany answered simply collecting some confetti in her palm, "If you love him why don't you ask him to dance?"

Julian's jaw fell open, "I- I don't—"

"Of course you do."

"If Santana is rooster blocking you I can get her out of the way for you."

"Rooster blocking…?" Julian almost laughed when he realized what Brittany had meant, "Santana's _not _cock blocking me, because I have no intention of dancing with Logan."

"Then why do you stare at his butt when he dances?"

Julian put his face in his hand, "Brittany, will you please leave."

The blonde girl looked down sadly at him as she stood, "You could be a lot happier Cheshire Cat." And with a swish of Kurt's coat she skipped back to the dance floor.

The actor's shoulders slumped as he mulled over what Brittany said. It couldn't be true. He couldn't be happier, could he? Not here.

He looked at the boy he loved dancing with Santana, his lean body rocking to the flowing rhythm of the music. In the three years they had been friends Julian didn't think he could count more than five times when Logan had danced with him.

But even as a suffocating hopelessness smothered him, he felt an inexplicable tingle of hope.

Ever since he had come back to Dalton to find Logan fawning over Kurt, sharp little arrows of hope tried to pierce his heart, but he had kept it too well protected for too long and the arrows were never able to burry deep. Maybe it was the stress, or sleep deprivation, or the heightened threat of death, but his defenses were weakening. Arrow heads were working their way through stone and steal to wound the tender flesh that had always felt too strongly.

He hated that part of him considered Brittany's advice, and he wanted to strangle that part which told him to take a risk and get out there and do it. It wasn't really hatred or loathing that Julian Larson felt. He was terrified, not of having his flesh ripped from his bones by undead teeth, but of discovering that even in a time like this, when they could be killed any second, Logan still couldn't find room in his heart to love him.

* * *

><p>The music finally ended but the laughter and merry conversation continued as the residents of Windsor house cleared away the food and decorations and began to prepare for the night ahead.<p>

Kurt leaned against Blaine's shoulder, a small smile curving his lips. Blaine wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, noticing as he did so that his boyfriend seemed to be putting more weight on him than usual. "You alright?" Wrinkles of concern puckered his brow.

"Fine," Kurt answered weakly.

Blaine waited patiently for Kurt to tell him the truth.

"Ok fine, I'm just really tired. Maybe you were right to keep me in bed all this time."

Blaine replied to his boyfriend's admission with a tight lipped smile that disguised his pain, "I think getting out of that room was good for you. You'll be back to normal in no time."

Kurt smiled gratefully, he neither knew nor cared if the words were true, Blaine always knew how to raise his spirits. He kissed his boyfriend lightly on the cheek and together they proceeded up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"Hey Kurt."<p>

Kurt looked up from his book, smiling as the curly haired boy he loved unconditionally strode into their room, "Morning darling."

Blaine brushed of the term of endearment, his mouth set in a grave line, "I need to talk to you about something serious."

Kurt closed his book, arching an eyebrow in interest, "Alright, let me hear it."

Blaine couldn't seem to look anywhere but at his hands, "We've planned another mission for tomorrow."

Kurt waited quietly for his boyfriend to elaborate, "We're going to try burning down Stuart, and hopefully kill everything inside."

Kurt nodded.

"I've volunteered to help."

Kurt nodded again, naturally Blaine would, he hadn't been on any life threatening raids up to this point and as one of the leaders of the group Kurt had expected this.

"I've been chosen to go inside, actually I've been assigned the most dangerous job of the mission."

Kurt's blood ran cold. Of course sending someone into a zombie infested house had always been terrifying but after David, and Tina, and Mike, and him the actuality of getting bitten seemed a whole lot more immediate.

"Do, do you have to?" Kurt choked.

Blaine shook his head.

"But you will anyway." It wasn't a question, Kurt knew Blaine too well. He also knew that Blaine wouldn't be the boy he loved if he stepped down at a time like this.

* * *

><p>The next twenty-four hours were hectic to say the least. Kurt, still too weak to join the siege insisted on overseeing the planning. He was surprised to see how extensive the plans already were, but then again he had been out of action for close to four days.<p>

Floor plans of Stuart had been printed out by Han and marked with strategic entrance and exit routes for the five groups that would enter the building. Four of the five groups were to set fire in the four corners of the building then escape, with hopefully as little combat necessary as possible. The fifth group, however, was the most important.

The original Stuart building, built along with the main buildings of the school, was actually half the size. Some twenty years later it was expanded. The new section was indiscernible from the old. However, the water valve to the building was still in its old location, which was now the very heart of the building. In order for any fire they started to do the job, the water needed to be shut off, disabling the sprinklers. This was group five's job, and Blaine was the head of group five.

* * *

><p>They marched across the grass as the dew was just beginning to evaporate. Some people were silent, some joked in unnaturally loud voices, and others muttered garbled sentences to the person next to them.<p>

Evan and Ethan glanced around at the tense looking group. Previous missions had been accompanied by easy ignorance or jittery nervousness, not this knowing tension. They knew what lay in that house, they knew the risk, now it was time to buckle down and get it done.

The Tweedles weren't quite sure they liked this dull rigidity and so they decided to do something about it.

With a whispered title and a nod to each other they split, bookending the group.

Their chanting started slowly and quietly, but from the first word they had the attention of everyone in the group.

Put out your hands  
>Put out your hands<br>Put out your hands

Their voice gradually raised in intensity as they wove through the marching figures. Making eye contact and slapping backs reassuringly.

I know your scared  
>I know your scared<br>I know its scary

They met together in front of the group and with one mind punched the air then kept their first raised like a display of might.

Light up your fire  
>Light up your fire<br>Light up your fire

The pace of the group quickened, heads raised with blazing looks, eyes fixed on the powerful postures of the boys before them.

I know your scared  
>I know your scared<br>I know its scary

* * *

><p>Back inside Windsor, Kurt sat on the couch picking nervously at a cushion. Brittany was curled next to him, humming the Oscar Myer song to herself. They had no knowledge of what was going on. A cell phone lay on the coffee table but no calls came.<p>

They waited.

And waited.

Brittany used a pencil to doodle on a blank sheaf of paper. Kurt tired of the couch cushion and began to bite his nails, something he'd promised himself never to do.

There were distant shouts but they couldn't tell what they meant.

Kurt was too anxious to sit still. With quick strides he went out the door and stood on the front steps, squinting into the distance.

He saw the first people come hobbling back.

Rachel gasped choking on smoke she had inhaled as she spoke to Kurt, "The others are coming, they told us to go ahead."

Rachel had been part of the reserves, the people left outside the building in case of an emergency.

"Did you have to go inside Rachel? "

Rachel shook her head, "I didn't go in, but as soon as they lit the first fire zombies flooded out. It was absolute chaos. They told me to bring Justin back so I did."

Kurt felt his blood pressure rise. He shifted his attention to the tall boy standing next to Rachel. He looked clammy and stark white. His pupils were still contracted with fear and it looked like he might fall over any minute.

Rachel glanced nervously at the boy and whispered to Kurt, "He had a relapse."

Kurt nodded solemnly, he knew Justin had never fully recovered from his time locked in the Hanover storage closet, "Let him sit and give him a blanket. Don't give him anything to eat or drink until we can assure he isn't in shock."

Rachel nodded and led Justin inside. Through the window Kurt saw Brittany patted the boy's hand and give him a warm smile.

Kurt turned his attention back in the direction of Stuart as more people returned.

Puck and Finn raced up the steps cussing under their breath, "Dwight was right to suggest those rear guards, as soon as that house went up they spilled out of their like ants from those ant hills I used to drown as a kid."

Finn was cradling an arm that looked mildly burned.

"Run some water over that," Advised Kurt, but he was already distracted.

Kurt felt his heart race as he slipped past the panting boys and ran as fast as he could across the grass.

Stuart house was ablaze in the distance, coils of smoke billowing into the sky. Figures were racing across the lawn. Most were sprinting in dogged zig-zag shapes, the ones that weren't fell one by one. Kurt spotted Reed and Quinn, bows in hand deftly picking off the charging zombies one by one.

Kurt drew even with Julian who had a clip board in his hand.

"Is everything alright?"

The actor's winning smile was absent, "a good twenty or so escaped the house and we've had to kill them off by hand."

Kurt looked down at the list of names on the clip board, Rachel, Justin, Puck, and Finn were crossed off. As Mercedes and Todd raced by, Julian pierced their names with more solid black lines.

People raced by them toward the safety of Windsor and as each passed Julian crossed off their name. With each new person Kurt became more worried. Blaine wasn't back yet. He felt Julian become gradually tenser next to him, neither was Logan.

Chaz limped toward them . "Can I see the list Julian?" His voice was authoritative but a careworn. He scanned the list hastily, then turned his eyes back to the orange flames that were licking the sky.

"What happened?" Kurt asked nervously.

"Once we lit up the house they just started pouring out. We lost all order, people went everywhere."

Kurt looked up and saw Evan and Ethan converge on an attacker, with a few easy strokes the zombies head went rolling and they hollered in triumph. They searched around them, but seeing everyone left on the grass was most definitely human and alive they raced over to where Kurt, Charlie, and Julian were.

There were only six names left to be crossed off. Once Santana sprinted past them, and Dwight jogged to meet them, there were only four.

Kurt and Julian search desperately but there was no one between them and the blazing inferno that had been Stuart house.

Then from around the corner they came, Wes in front, Blaine and Logan behind.

Something was wrong. Logan was holding Blaine up, or maybe it was Blaine that was supporting Logan. But it was clear one of them was injured.

Wes's panic was evident even from this distance. He ran forward arms waving frantically, his steps staggering but quick, and his voice shaky but loud, "Help! He's been bitten!"

Kurt's heart dropped as fast as the clip board in Julian's hands.

* * *

><p>The songs in this chapter are: "Crawling Toward the Sun" by the Hush Sound, and "Today We Give Ourselves to the Fire" by Cloud Cult<p>

Only one more chapter to go! Find out you exactly got bitten and if they ever escape from this zombie infested hell!


	8. Desperation

So here is the final chapter, BUT there will be an epilogue to come out in the next 4-5 days (I promise).

Before you read this I need to address something: I am not a medical student, I have no idea how that type of stuff works. There is a lot of BS medical stuff in this chapter, please disregard any inaccuracies the story is supposed to be about the characters' emotional journeys not how to medically treat a zombie.

I sincerly hope you like it. The epilogue will tie up any loose ends.

As always thanks for reading

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and all non-Glee-canon characters are CP Coulter's.

* * *

><p>"He's been bitten!" the three words crashed into Kurt's ears like a two ton truck barreling straight into a brick wall, its squealing piercingly as they swung out behind it. His heart seemed to fall out of his chest. Everything in his body was at a standstill, no breath passed his lips, his eyes did not blink, the very blood in his veins froze. But even in this petrified state he became aware he was running. Hurling himself toward the three boys across the seemingly never ending expanse of grass.<p>

Julian's heart was in overdrive, it battered at his rib cage as his breath became quick and shallow. He was sprinting with all his might. He had never ran so fast in his life, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was getting there.

There was only one thought that filled both their heads, "Not him. Oh universe, oh God, if there is anyone out there, don't let it be _him_." They sprinted neck and neck

They were almost there when it happened, Blaine's legs went out and he stumbled. With strong arms Logan scooped the smaller boy up and broke into a run.

A cry ripped through Kurt's body, tearing at his throat. "_No!_"

Julian almost felt guilty about the relief that washed through his body. "Logan is fine. Logan is safe." The words echoed through his mind, calming him with each repetition. He slowed his pace, jogging behind the group of boys as they ran toward Windsor house.

"Blaine, Blaine!" Kurt cried, as he fell in step with Logan.

The boy turned his head toward Kurt's voice, "Kurt, I'm sorry." He whimpered his voice rough as he was jostled in Logan's arms.

"No, Blaine…" but Kurt had been running too hard to get any more words past his panting breath.

They reached the house quicker than Kurt thought humanly possible. The common room was filled with blurry faces that he was sure must belong to his friends but were utterly unrecognizable.

Logan bee-lined for the couch but Blaine struggled in sudden panic, overwhelmed by the chaos of people reacting to their entrance. "Not here! Not here! The empty bedroom."

Without complaint Logan changed his course, sprinting up the stairs.

There was only one empty bedroom left in Windsor. There was some logical reason for its abandonment that Kurt couldn't remember, but that didn't matter, at least not right now.

Kurt flung the door open and Logan rushed in and deposited Blaine on the bed. Dwight, Charlie, Wes, and the Tweedles hurried in after them, out of breath.

"Blaine!" Kurt was at his side, running a shaking hand over Blaine's clammy forehead. "Blaine how do you feel?" There was the tiniest sliver of hope in Kurt's voice, after all he had survived hadn't he?

Blaine shook his head and bit his lip, he couldn't seem to find the words.

"Do you feel feverish? I can't tell. Chaz does he feel warm to you?" Kurt asked desperately.

The pain in Blaine's eyes swelled but he couldn't seem to banish the tiny shred of hope Kurt was clinging to.

He fixed his eyes elsewhere, trying to put off the inevitable, "Evan, Ethan," he croaked, "apologize to everyone for me. Tell them… tell them… goodb-"

Kurt couldn't stand to let him finish, "Blaine don't! You might be fine!"

"No I'm not!" Blaine yelled suddenly, his voice shaking with violent emotion. He couldn't stand it any longer, every second Kurt deluded himself seemed to slice further into the tender nerves around Blaine's heart. "I can feel it! I can feel myself changing! I'm dying Kurt!"

His face collapsed in on itself as Kurt crumbled.

The faces of the boys standing by the door read only shock. Kurt and Blaine so rarely yelled at each other. Were they really going to scream at each other on Blaine's death bed?

They needn't have worried about that. In a second Kurt was flung across Blaine's chest shaking with sobs as Blaine clutched at the back of his shirt pulling him as close as possible. Frantic apologies and I-love- you's tumbled from their lips.

After a moment they able to address the other boys who averted their eyes to hide they tears.

"I don't think I can say good-bye." Blaine's voice quavered and broke.

"That's okay White Rabbit." The Tweedles smiled sadly.

"We understand." Wes said, unable to disguise the puffiness around his eyes.

Blaine looked at them gratefully, his eyes filled with such raw emotion that they didn't need him to speak.

"Could you give me and Kurt five minutes then send in Shane?"

"Of course."

"We love you Blaine."

"Dwight, can you leave the…"

Dwight nodded solemnly as if he had been expecting this request. He discreetly pulled a long blade from the sheath at his waist and left it on the desk.

Kurt swallowed and diverted his attention from the gruesome reality he knew he was soon to face.

One by one, boys filed miserably out of the room, their expressions utterly heart breaking.

Kurt scrambled onto the bed snuggling into Blaine's side. The shorter boy lifted an arm to let him cuddle in closer and moaned in pain.

"What is it!" Kurt asked with alarmed concern. He knew it was a dumb question but what else could he ask?

"My arm." Blaine gasped. He held the limb out before his looking at it with a look of violent distain.

For the first time Kurt noticed the blood smeared tear in the blue fabric. "Can I see?" he asked tentatively, unsure whether he wanted Blaine to say "yes".

"Might as well," Blaine mumbled. He shuddered slightly as Kurt's hands pressed gently on a spot a few inches above the wound.

Kurt held Blaine's arm contemplating for a second then he stood up slowly and crossed to the near by desk to retraive a pair of scissors with which he quickly snipped away Blaine's sleeve.

"I never thought I'd see the day you'd so willingly ruin a good shirt." Blaine joked weakly.

Kurt screwed up his face trying not to whimper at Blaine's attempt at levity.

He gently tugged the soiled fabric down over Blaine's wrist. In all honesty the bite didn't look too bad, it was just two curved red tears that didn't even look very deep. Drying blood was smeared around the wounds but they seemed to have stopped bleeding.

Kurt deftly tore off his own sleeve and tied it around Blaine's arm. There really wasn't a point in finding anything more sanitary.

"I feel like we've done this before." Blaine said as Kurt molded back into his side, interlacing their fingers.

The blue eyed boy blinked tearily at him and brushed a thumb over Blaine's tear streaked cheek bone. Blaine sighed leaning into Kurt's touch, "I know it might be selfish, but I think I'd rather be on this side. At least I know I'll be able to rest soon."

Kurt bit his lip, holding back a sob. "Does it hurt much?"

Blaine rested he head on Kurt's shoulder, eyes fixed on their entwined fingers. After a minute he nodded jerkily.

"Oh Blaine!" Kurt breathed. "What can I do? How can I help!" He begged desperately

Blaine's voice, when it came, was so forlorn that it took all Kurt's willpower not to dissolve into tears, "Tell me you love me, Kurt."

"Of course I love you Blaine! I always have and I always will."

As Blaine looked up at him, Kurt felt his heart shudder and he wouldn't be surprised if it had come to a halt, "I know. And you know that I will always love you right Kurt?"

Air suddenly felt far too dense to be sucked into Kurt's lungs, "Yeah…"

"Good." His eyelids drooping a bit, Blaine pushed himself closer to his boyfriend as if seeking heat.

Kurt ran his fingers through his boyfriend's matted but still softy curls. He suppressed a shiver as his fingers ghosted over Blaine's forehead that felt utterly devoid of warmth.

"I want to stay in your arms forever Kurt." Blaine whispered his voice so fragile another breath could shatter it.

Kurt could think of no response but clutched the boy tighter as if he could will his love to seep into the other boy's body and rekindle life in his slowly dying flesh.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Can I come in?"

"Of course Shane."

The younger Anderson stepped tentatively into the room. He looked absolutely terrified. His pupils were dialated in terror, shiny tracks streaked his pale face, and his hands clenched nervously around the fabric of his jeans. Despite his obvious distress he was trying his best to put on a brave face.

* * *

><p>Chaz rubbed a hand across the tense muscles of his neck. They shouldn't have gone through with it. The risk had been too great. But then again what <em>were <em>they supposed to do? They were stranded in the middle of a zombie infested quarantine zone, it was a miracle any of them were alive. That didn't make him feel any better about the boy slowly dying on the other side of the door or the other boy whose name hadn't been crossed off his list and never would be.

As soon as they had stepped away from Blaine's sick bed Logan had pulled Charlie aside to tell him that Sam Evans was gone, and wouldn't be coming back.

In the chaos of the moment the prefect had been too busy calming down Shane and sending out a group to finish off the shot but not disposed of zombies on the lawn to inform the rest of the house of their loss (which in the same chaos they had not yet noticed).

He took a deep breath and with a heavy heart prepared to be the bearer of bad news.

* * *

><p>"Hey Shaney." Blaine said forcing a weak smile.<p>

Shane ran forward and knelt next to Blaine's bed. Kurt was glad to see that despite looking like he was on the verge of releasing a deluge of tears, Shane was holding himself together. The boy who was usually so erratic and dramatic, was staying strong for his brother.

Shane took his brother's hand before the avalanche of words began, "You are the best brother ever, you know that right Blaine? You were always there for me, helping me, protecting me, teaching me how to not make a total ass of myself. I know I get on your nerves sometimes and I'm a bit much to handle but you've always been so good to me.

"You are my biggest idol. You are so brave, the way you came out to Dad and now too… I wish I had stood up to him with you but I'm not as brave as you are…" Shane's words were coming at a mile a minute. It was as if he was trying to fit everything he ever wanted to say to his brother in ten seconds.

Blaine didn't seem to mind, he just watched Shane with a sad understanding smile that broke Kurt's heart.

"I love you Blaine!" Shane continued, "I love you so much and I don't know what I would do without you!" Shane's torrent of words came to a screeching halt and his face screwed up against the suffocating emotions sending tremors through his body.

"I love you too Shane," Blaine choked and squeezed his brother's hand with all the fading strength he could muster.

Seconds passed in silence, but silence was suddenly terrible. It spoke of regret and loss and a muteness that would never be able to be broken.

"You don't have to be the one to do it, either of you, if it will cause you too much pain." Neither Kurt nor Shane had to ask what he meant. Their guts twisted painfully as they tried to ignore the devastating images that flooded their minds. "Ask Dwight, he'll do it. I just don't want either of you too suffer more than you have to, and I don't want…" his voice trailed off faintly, "I-I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You won't Blaine," crooned Kurt, soothingly stroking Blaine's forehead, "we won't let you."

Blaine thanked them with a grimace and sighed, "I don't think I can stay awake much longer. It feels like ice is creeping though my veins…" Blaine whispered his eyelids drooping.

"Do you want us to be quiet?" Shane asked.

"No." Blaine said voice soft and fragile, his lips moved silently as if he was having trouble forming words, "sing."

Kurt could feel his heart splintering to pieces as tears began to streak down Shane's face.

He knew what he was going to sing, he didn't even have to think the words just came out.

Live in my house  
>I'll be your shelter<p>

His voice was lower than usual, and rough from crying. But it didn't matter. Blaine looked up at him those wide puppy dog eyes that somehow still held so much life even as the rest of his skin was pale and drained of blood.

Just pay me back  
>With one thousand kisses<br>Be my lover  
>And I'll cover you<p>

Kurt caressed Blaine's face gently feeling warmth leave his fingers yet have no effect on Blaine's frigid skin. He trailed his fingers down to Blaine's neck, trying subtly to find a pulse, but it was so weak Kurt could find none.

Open your door, I'll be your tenant  
>Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet<br>But sweet kisses I've got to spare  
>I'll be there, I'll cover you<p>

Vague memories of that day so long ago in Radio City Music Hall seemed to float in between the notes like specters. They had been so happy, life had seemed so possible.

Kurt threw everything into the song. His voice crack and shook but the sound produced was full of emotion, so genuinely distraught that it was divinely lovely. Shivers went down Shane's spine.

I think they meant it  
>When they said you can't buy love<br>Now I know you can rent it  
>A new lease you were, my love, on life<p>

Their eyes were locked. Kurt poured himself into Blaine, willing him to be happy, to feel loved in these last few moments. While Blaine tried to pass whatever little strength he had left to Kurt, willing him to go on, to live, to survive.

All my life  
>I've longed to discover<br>Something as true  
>As this is<p>

For the briefest second Kurt broke the eye contact to glance at Shane and the younger boy knew what to do.

So with a thousand sweet kisses  
>I'll cover you with a thousand sweet kisses<br>I'll cover you

Shane's voice rasped and singing was almost painful but he wasn't about to stop. Blaine turned his head to look at his brother, so much love emanating from those wide hazel eyes that Shane simultaneously felt warm and painfully cold.

Kurt kept singing, his fingers tracing through Blaine's curls, trying to permanently imprint their texture on his hand.

If you're cold and you're lonely  
>You've got one nickel only<br>When you're worn out and tired

His voice had built up to normal volume and with a deep breath he sang to a heart wrenching crescendo.

When your heart has expired

Shane continued, softly sniffing as he watched his brother's eye lids droop further.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes  
>Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear<br>Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes  
>Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred - measure a year<p>

Oh lover I'll cover you.

Kurt belted over him, pure heart break powering his words as his voice rose and fell with vivid emotion. Their voices on the two different melodies made an odd discord. They were ill matched; Kurt's pure, high tenor was very different from Shane's untrained, but soulfully rough voice. Yet somehow in the way that mattered most their voices were exactly the same, for they expressed inconsolable sorrow, devastating heartbreak.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes  
>Five hundred twenty-five thousand seasons of love<p>

Shane fell silent and Blaine fixed his eyes on Kurt again before they got too heavy and fell shut.

With a shuddering sob Kurt finished the song.

I'll cover you

Blaine's hand was limp and cold in Kurt's grip. The breath that had passed so faintly through his lips had stilled, and if there was a pulse struggling to beat under his blood drained skin Kurt couldn't feel it.

Holding back tears, Kurt gave Blaine's lifeless hand a final squeeze and let go. He brushed shaking fingers over Blaine's forehead sweeping back the dark, silky curls before placing a last kiss on the boy's temple. His eyes stung and his lips tugged downward as he pulled away, but not a sound escaped him.

Loud sniffing noises were coming from Shane. His face was buried in his hands; he couldn't look at his brother, now just a prostrate form on the bed.

He dragged a hand across his face and sobbed, "It's over."

Kurt stood up suddenly, it was as if the words had burned him, but through the pain he found a new type of clarity.

"No its not!"

The shout was so violently loud that Shane looked up in disbelief.

"Are you mad! Look at him! He's changing before our eyes!" (This wasn't exactly true, no change had yet come over Blaine since he drew his last breath.)

"I'm not going to let that happen!" Kurt clenched his jaw, daring the universe to contradict him.

Shane knew it was crazy and momentarily considered slapping the boy but this brief inclination toward sanity was overpowered by the overwhelming need to believe Kurt, to believe that this wasn't the end. His brother didn't have to go like this.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to save him. I-I'm going to reverse it. I will find a way."

Shane jumped to his feet clapping his hands together determinedly, "Let's do this."

Something passed between the two boys at that moment, a secret promise and an unspoken covenant. No one and nothing were going to stop them. They were going to fix this.

As one, they turned to the door and flung it open.

Evan and Ethan, who had been pacing back and forth in the hall way turned to them with red rimmed eyes. The quick tongued twins didn't have a chance to ask questions before Kurt was shouting instructions. "He's in there. Unconscious. Find all the belts you can. Strap him to the bed. Secure as possible. Work quickly. Time is of the essence."

"And if anyone hurts him so help me—" It was a good thing Kurt was already dragging Shane away because he was far too overwhelmed with emotion to think up a decent threat.

Shane followed blindly, willingly as Kurt raced toward a mystery destination. Before he knew what was happening they were in another room, darker than any he had yet been in and smelling distinctly of garlic.

"Dwight, we're going to find and antidote." Kurt's voice rang strong and clear through the room.

The slight dark haired boy facing the window turned around slowly to study them with sad eyes that didn't seem in the least surprised. "Alright," he said, "Kurt let me see your wrist."

* * *

><p>"I thought it was you Lo. I thought you were the one who had been bitten." The words drifted hauntingly through the dark room.<p>

Logan peered through the dim beams of moonlight that struggled their way through the blinds, focusing on the bed where his best friend lay. It was one in the morning, and try as they might neither boy had been able to fall asleep.

"I almost wish it had been me." Logan replied. Blaine didn't deserve that, sure they had their differences but when he looked at all the people Blaine helped, all the friends he loved and took care of, it made his own life look horrifically selfish. Actually, ever since Logan had been able to reflect on his life (his mind clear of the drugs that had been left in Stuart and free of the crippling anger that without the crutch of such drugs he had finally been able to tame0 Logan was pretty sure that he was unforgivably selfish.

Julian's voice shook Logan from his self-loathing reverie, "I don't." The statement was a little too loud and his voice threatened to crack.

Logan could tell something was wrong, he could sense some sort of undistinguishable pain in his friend's voice. "Julian, are you alright?"

Nothing but small sniffling sounds came from the other bed.

Logan threw off his blankets and padded across the room.

"Julian?"

A small sob was swallowed up in Julian's pillow.

"I was just so scared."

Logan sat at the foot of the bed and shifted uncomfortably. Discussing emotions was never something he had excelled at, but as he looked at the huddled lump that was his best friend he felt a painful tightness in his chest. He couldn't bare seeing Julian so distraught and knew that in that moment he would do anything to help the boy feel better. And even though it felt like his heart was going to implode as he watched Julian curl in on himself, Logan was immeasurably glad that he wasn't numbed with medications.

Logan patted Julian's leg awkwardly, hoping the boy understood that he was there for him, ready to listen or console.

But Julian didn't say anything.

As the silence stretched on, the tightness in Logan's chest found a companion in the confusion that seemed to be seeping into his mind. He waited a minute longer but when Julian remained silent, he spoke instead.

"Julian, can I ask you something?"

"Anything." The boy's voice was so timid, and shaky, and utterly un-Julian Larson that Logan felt a small surge of fear pulse through him.

He took a deep breath and let the words tumble out, "We've always been so close. We used to get along great, then we started fighting, but that was still fine, because it was just something that we did. But then I started to feel like I was losing you. When you came back to Dalton, I just felt like there was this gaping distance between us." He winced at how ineloquently the words spilled forth.

A brief pause filled the room with silence, but Julian didn't respond so Logan continued, "And now there are these moments when I can feel you start to break down, and it's like you're trying to tell me something but I don't know what it is!" His voice had become loud and angry. He took deep breaths, schooling the burning anger the way he had learned to. As his temper cooled he began to feel dreadfully vulnerable. Had he really just spilled everything he had been feeling over the last few months? That was very unlike him.

He shook himself mentally, forcing himself out of his head and back into the moment.

"What's happened to us Jules?"

He saw Julian's wide eyes turn look at him. In the darkness, they were like two bright orbs stained slightly pink from salty tears.

"I think I know what happened," the boy finally said feebly.

Logan waited what seemed like hours as Julian fidgeted, obviously struggling with what he was about to say.

"I fell in love with you."

Everything froze.

The stars outside stopped twinkling.

The breeze stopped teasing the binds.

Logan stopped breathing.

Then a heart wrenching cry issued from the contorted form on the bed, and everything was alive again, but all Logan noticed was the shaking of the bed and the choking sobs coming from its occupant.

Still slightly stunned, Logan crawled up to the head of the bed so that he could look his friend.

"Jules," he said softly, "It's alright."

"No it's not!" Julian choked, burying his head in a pillow.

Logan didn't argue with him. Nothing seemed "alright" this days.

"Jules, can you at least talk to me?" He was struggling to maintain a soft, soothing tone when Julian was crying so loudly.

The boy swallowed one last sob and rolled onto his back. "What?" he spat.

"Come on Jules, we don't need the animosity anymore." Logan's voice sounded so drained that Julian wouldn't have been able to bite back if he wanted to.

"How long?" Logan asked.

"A long time." The terseness of Julian's answer told of weariness, not hostility.

"But I thought–"

"I was straight? Well, I'm not."

Quiet settled between them. Logan wanted to ask more questions, but he didn't want to push Julian so the silence dragged.

"Are you angry?" Julian's voice quavered.

"No," Logan replied quietly, and he meant it. As he took stock of his emotions he found no anger, just a little sadness and a life's supply of confusion. "Thank you Julian," he whispered.

The boy looked at his with furrowed brows and eyes that were still shining with tears. "For what?"

"For telling me. And for seeing something in me that is worth loving."

He reached out a gentle hand to touch Julian's shoulder, "I don't know how I feel," he admitted softly, "but I know you are one of the few people who I have truly cared about in my life, and I know that I want you beside me."

His green eyes shone with genuine feeling in the dark, "Can we go back to being best friends again? Back to talking without jumping down each other's throats, and smiling instead of glaring?

"Just give me some time to think and sort out my feelings, and we can see where that leads us… In the meantime will you be my friend? I miss you Jules." He didn't notice the glass-like tears rolling down his own cheeks until he stopped speaking.

Looking back, neither would be able to remember who initiated the hug, but their arms we suddenly wrapped tightly around each other. They held each other as if their lives depended on it; two best friends, trying desperately to figure out how their lives were supposed to fit together.

* * *

><p>Shane knocked nervously on the door.<p>

"Maybe we shouldn't bother him," he said anxiously, "it's pretty early."

"It's ten o'clock."

"Actually, I should probably go help Dwight…'

"Kurt's there and I'm sure he can get the job done. Besides, you said you want to hear for yourself exactly what happened." Reed reminded him in a soothing tone.

"I know but Kur—"

"Kurt chose what was best for him. He doesn't want to know the details. But is that what's best for you? You and Kurt are not the same person, you need different things."

Shane sighed and looked down as the petite artist took his hand. He wondered how someone so small could be full of so much wisdom, but that was Reed, always full of surprises.

The door opened to reveal Julian, eyes a little puffy with sleep but otherwise looking quite well. Logan peeked around from behind him, "He sorry does Chaz need us to do something? We over sl—"

Reed waved away their question as he dragged Shane over the threshold, "No, no one's doing much of anything today. Shane has some questions."

"I just want to know what happened to my brother." Shane said firmly. Reed was glad to see that once in the room a new determination seemed to take hold of his boyfriend.

Logan sighed, closing the door and gesturing for them to sit on his bed.

As they sat Reed accidently knocked a pile of clothes of the end of the bed. He apologized profusely, but Logan just shrugged distractedly and began to pace in the center of the room.

An uncomfortable quiet settled on the room. No one wanted to broach the subject.

Finally Julian broke the silence. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked, obviously trying to be sensitive to Logan and Shane for whom the following conversation was bound to be highly emotional.

"Of course not." Logan answered quickly, but surprisingly gently.

Shane shook his head 'no' and Julian settled himself cross-legged on his own bed.

"So," began Logan, taking a deep breath, "Where do you want me to start?"

Shane looked thoughtfully down at his hands, "How did you end up with Blaine? Weren't you supposed to be in a different part of the house?"

Logan sighed, "Yeah, Wes and I were at the north end of the house, working our way toward the center, but not too far in, just enough to make sure the blaze would get the middle of the house."

Shane listened with wide eyes.

"We heard a scream and it didn't sound like someone was frightened or fighting, it sounded like someone had just been landed a death blow." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "We had already lit our fire so we ran toward the noise, batting away zombies as we went.

"We found Blaine and Sam in the very center of the house. Apparently they had gotten their job done because no sprinklers were drenching our fires blaze. Sam was supposed to watch Blaine's back while he shut off the water but something must have gone wrong. Blood was gushing from Sam's throat. And there was Blaine, trying to fight his way past the swarming zombies while pretty much carrying his friend."

Logan gave a cold laugh that sounded far more upset than entertained.

"I don't really know what happened to Sam. I'm not sure if we ever will.

"We beat back most of the zombies and were trying to get Blaine to come with us. He wouldn't leave Sam to be eaten so Wes was helping him drag Sam out of the building."

Logan's voice was getting darker and softer as the story progressed. "Blaine tripped and suddenly we were set upon by another horde fleeing the fire on the north side of the floor. One dove straight for Blaine."

Logan stopped talking and hung his head. Reed and Shane waited with bated breath and hands gripped together like a vice, Logan didn't seem able to speak.

Julian crossed the room and sat next to Logan gently rubbing his back. "Come on Lo, you can do it."

"I don't remember much of what happened next." Logan's voice sounded heavy with sadness. "I ran out of arrows and dropped my bow. Blaine was bit. He dropped Sam. I grabbed him. There were so many zombies and so Wes and I just ran. We grabbed Blaine and ran until we found a window to escape through."

He sighed heavily, "And well I guess you know what happened from there."

Shane nodded, tears were streaming down his face. He was glad that Logan hadn't gone into graphic detail he wasn't sure he would be able to keep himself together.

Reed gave his boyfriend's hand a squeeze. The truth was a horribly gruesome thing, but it was better than being haunted by nagging questions.

* * *

><p>Kurt squinted at the ink saturated pages spread out before him. All the information Dwight had collected, all the inferences they had made. It was all here, and hopefully so was Blaine's cure.<p>

He had been reading all night and his eyes felt dry and sore, but his mind was wide awake.

He scanned the pages reviewing the list of conclusions they had come to:

The virus made a notable progression as it slowly corroded the victim's body.

This progression was correlated with (if not caused by) the drying of the victim's blood. This explained why some zombies bled when decapitated, but the majority didn't.

Kurt looked up to the cage of zombie rats in a dark corner of the room. He had felt bad infecting innocent rats but they needed something to test on. Dwight had approximated from previous studies that it took about 12 hours for a rat's blood to fully dry up. They guessed the window was considerably longer for humans but how long they didn't know.

Kurt looked back at the list:

After the blood dries up the victim would be past the point of no return.

Kurt's blood could save centralized areas of flesh but it could not spread by itself, it needed the heart to beat at a normal rate

Kurt grimaced at the nasty memories this point brought up. After injecting his blood into one rat, the area around the injection had begun to heal and become alive again. However, with very little blood flow the injected antidote was unable to travel to the rest of the body. The rat had ended up attacking it's own side, gnawing away at the living flesh

The infected individual's heart was in fact beating (until the blood dried fully), but at an irregular very weak pace

The blood only went so far, if it took two syringes full to revive a rat it was going to take a lot more to revive a human.

Kurt rubbed his forehead tiredly. If they could figure out how to restart Blaine's heart and give him enough of Kurt's blood they had a chance of saving him. Kurt knew that wasn't going to be an easy task.

His eyes were threatening to close but he couldn't let that happen. He dug his fingernails into his palm but pain had ceased to have any effect on him. He had to stay awake, at least until Shane came back from talking to Logan and Dwight came back from wherever he had disappeared. Now that they knew _what _they needed to do it was time to figure out _how _they were going to do it and Kurt wanted to brainstorm before he fell into what was sure to be a brief and tortured state of unconsciousness.

The door swung open with a creak and Kurt turned around wearily to see Dwight and Todd walk in. Kurt's eyes automatically went to the bright yellow, plastic box that Todd was holding and he felt the slightest flutter of hope in his tired heart.

"An A.E.D.! Where did you get that?"

Todd set the defibrillator on his bed with a small weary smile, "all the houses at Dalton were required to have them. I'm actually kinda surprised that with all the crazy stuff that happened in Windsor no one ever needed it."

"Do you think it will work Dwight?" Kurt asked desperately.

"I don't know…" Dwight said thoughtfully, "but if that doesn't then I don't know what would."

As the zombie expert spoke Kurt finally noticed the odd assortment of food in his arms. "Hungry Dwight?" he raised his eyebrows as he asked only a bit condescendingly, after all they weren't supposed to take extra food.

"This is for you," Dwight said pushing the food into Kurt's arms.

Kurt looked confusedly down as juice boxes, packaged cookies, granola bars, and dried apple bits Dwight poured into his lap.

"We've established that a little syringe of your blood isn't going to be enough. And if you're willing to go through with this, we're going to need you to be as strong as the circumstances allow."

Kurt swallowed; Blaine was going to need _a lot _of blood. Dwight had already tried to warn him about the potential risk to his own health but Kurt had brushed it aside, far more determined to save Blaine's life than protect his own. Now that he faced mortality head on, he felt a bit shaky and light headed, but no less determined.

He shook his head trying to dispel both fear and fatigue, "How are we going to—"

"I have an idea," Dwight said tersely, "but that is for me to figure out. You need to eat and sleep now." Kurt was about to protest but Dwight cut him off again, "It's the only way you can help Blaine. We need you to be strong enough to make it through any type of transfusion we conjure up."

Kurt shut his mouth and nodded his head jerkily. He stabbed the straw into the juice box. He downed two juices and a granola bar without tasting a mouthful.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep Dwight." Kurt admitted brushing crumbs off his shirt. Even though his eyelids were heavy and he could hardly focus his thoughts, his mind was whirring and he knew anxiety would keep him awake.

Dwight sighed and nodded, "I can help you there." He gestured to his bed and Kurt lay down obediently.

"Listen to my voice Kurt, I am going to put you in a state of relaxed hypnosis. I will not control you but suggest to your subconscious what way to take." Dwight's voice was low and carefully modulated. The words knit together like a blanket fanning over Kurt and making him sink deeper into the mattress. "Slowly relax all the muscles in your body. Let go of control. Feel the knots work themselves out, feel yourself sink deeper and deeper and deeper into relaxation." Kurt did feel it; his limbs were growing heavy and moving a single muscle seemed far too difficult to be bothered with.

"Kurt I am going to touch a point on your forehead. Stare through your skull at that point. I am going to count slowly backwards from ten. By the time I reach three your eyes should be closed. By the time I reach one you will be fully asleep."

Kurt felt a gentle pressure on his forehead and as bidden rolled his eyes back trying to see Dwight's finger.

"Ten… nine…"

Kurt felt the pressure on his forehead widen as if an invisible force were pressing gently over his eyes.

"Eight… seven…"

His eyelids began to fall of their own volition.

"Six… Five…"

His eyes closed.

"Four… Three… Two…One."

Dwight looked down and the peacefully sleeping boy. He was suddenly very gratefully he had learned hypnosis, Kurt deserved a dreamless sleep and this was probably the only way he was going to get it.

"So what now." Todd whispered flipping through the pages Kurt had recently abandoned.

"We learn how to give transfusions." Dwight answered matter-of-factly and picked up his copy of _Dracula_ which he opened to a very dog-eared page.

* * *

><p>The living room was dead quite. This was quite odd, firstly because Windsor was hardly ever quiet, and secondly because generally a gathering of over three Windsor residents would be uproariously loud.<p>

Bailey stared morosely at the carpet. He had tried listening to music but something that made him so happy had no place on this day.

Rachel and Finn were huddled in in an arm chair. He stroked her hair gently but both their minds were elsewhere.

Brittany was sleeping her head on Santana's shoulder.

Mercedes was on Brittany's other side staring dulling into nothingness. Her cheeks hadn't been dry for hours.

Puck was sprawled out on the floor hands behind his head and eyes closed. No one was really sure if he was awake or asleep… no one bothered to check.

Artie had a book open in his lap but the words had ceased to hold any interest for him around the same time Blaine's life had ended.

Logan and Julian were pressed tightly together on another couch, neither looked at each other but both were hyper aware of the other's presence. Their minds were saturated with confusion as well as the depression that gripped the rest of the room.

Quinn sat cross legged on the floor picking at the hem of the boy's t-shirt she wore. Her eyes followed the only person in the room truly moving.

Charlie paced incessantly. It was as if he were thinking, planning, finding a solution, but his mind was absolutely blank, aside from the feeling of despair that incapacitated him.

Only the soft slap, slap, slap of Charlie's shoes against the wood floor broke the silence.

Finally he felt compelled to speak. "I'm so sorry you guys. We should have never gone through with that plan. It was far to flawed. I'm so sorry." His voice cracked.

Wes's head snapped up from where he was staring at his hands. "Chaz this isn't your fault. It's none of ours. We can't control what those monsters do."

"But I—"

"And both Blaine and Sam entered that building knowing full well what the risks would be."

Chaz stopped pacing and nodded slowly. "I just don't know what to do now…" He admitted. He felt like a failure. He was supposed to lead them, to take care of them. That was his job and he had failed. But then again wasn't it a mark of wisdom to know when to ask for help? Or something like that...

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked soothingly, he could almost feel her voice trying to gently pry away the hard shell he had constructed.

The prefect let his shoulders sag as he stared at the intently listening faces, "Well everything began to feel so hopeless when we weren't fighting back, when we were just defending but doing nothing to improve our situation. Morale was low, lethargy set in and we were unhappy." People nodded, agreeing with what he said. "We had to do something; we had to fight back, even if only to give us hope. And now look where that got us… deeper in the pits of despair than we have ever been. And what's worse is that the one method that we know to give us hope is what got us here."

The room was silent again as the room absorbed this information. Quinn stood and crossed quietly to Chaz pulling him over to a couch and letting him simply collapse.

Then finally a voice that was well known for interrupting silence spoke, "Maybe that's not the only way."

"What do you mean?" Bailey asked, intrigued by the determined hope in Rachel's voice.

"I mean what if there is another way to keep us going, to boost morale, and give us hope." Wide eyes stared at her unblinkingly, too jaded to be affected by this thus far unsupported statement of optimism. "Let's think about it. When were we most happy? Not when we were training or preparing to defend ourselves, but at that party when we just lived with the moment and let loose."

"Berry, busting a groove isn't going to keep us from being zombie snacks." Santana sneered.

"No listen to me! Yes, defense is still important, we need to keep ourselves alive, but what if instead of just staying alive we begin to live again."

"But how?" It was clear that Finn was trying to wrap his head around what his girlfriend was saying.

"Music, art, beauty… in times of strife the arts elevate the soul and allow people to rise above their day to day struggles."

Finn began to nod, enthusiasm creeping into his expression, "Yeah, yeah, it's like when you're having one of those really crap days and you just turn on some really loud music and just like rock out in your room."

"Dude," said Puck pushing himself up onto his elbows, obviously now awake, "You do that too?"

"Well, yeah…"

Puck nodded a smug half smile on his lips, "That's tight."

Rachel cleared her throat, apparently not wanting to allow the conversation to take a tangent, "Of course there is still a lot of technical and defensive duties we will each need to carry out but I propose that instead of trying to do the impossible and escape here, or instead of putting ourselves in danger in order to 'better' our situation, we should simply make the life we could live here as beautiful as possible."

"I like that." Bailey said softly a small smile dawning on his lips. "I know that music sooths the soul, it carries me through the day. I think if we have that we could, I don't know be happy here?"

Brittany sat up suddenly, "Does that mean I can finally paint my mural?"

No one knew what the hell she was talking about but Rachel smiled sweetly, "Yes exactly! Art!" She cried in an impassioned voice, "Art is the food of hope and joy! Art is what we need."

Charlie looked through his eyes blurry with stress and fatigue. He wasn't sure if lack of sleep was making him delusional or the bodies around him were actually no longer weighted down with hopelessness. People sat up straight, their eyes shining, and their lips set. Chaz had no idea in the long run how any of this would work out but it sure as hell was worth a shot.

* * *

><p>"I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU RISK MY BROTHER"S LIFE BY USING SOME CRACKPOT MEDICAL PROCEEDURE YOU GOT OUT OF A FICTION NOVEL THAT'S NOT EVEN ABOUT ZOMBIES!"<p>

Kurt turned over in his sleep, he couldn't quite figure out why sudden loud shouts were disrupting the peaceful darkness.

"ZOMBIES AND VAMPIRES AREN'T AS DIFFERENT AS YOU THINK! AND JUST BECAUSE _DRACULA_ IS FICTIONAL DOESN'T MEAN STOKER DIDN'T HAVE EXTENSIVE EXPERIENCE WITH THE UNDEAD."

"I'M NOT LETTING YOU PUT MY BROTHER'S LIFE ON THE LINE—"

"YOUR BROTHER'S LIFE IS ALREADY ON THE LINE. YOUR BROTHER'S _DEAD_ SHANE, AND HE'S GOING TO REMAIN THAT WAY IF I DON'T TRY TO DO THIS!"

The shouting stopped abruptly and was replaced by what sounded like muffled sobs and frantic apologies. Something in the back of his mind was telling Kurt that he should wake up and find out why the voices had been shouting. There was something important going on that he should remember. Not now though, the bed was so comfortable and if he got up he might accidently wake up Blaine. _Blaine._ Suddenly reality came crashing through the darkness.

Kurt sat up so quickly his head spun. "Where's Blaine? How long have I been asleep? What do we do now?"

Todd rushed over to the bed and set a hand on Kurt's shoulder to calm him. "Deep breaths, Kurt. Just take deep breaths and Dwight will fill you in on everything."

Dwight turned to Kurt with haggard eyes, "I'm glad you're up Kurt. We're going to have to do the transfusion soon before it's too late."

"Too late? How long have I been asleep?"

"About twelve hours, but don't worry," Todd hurried to say as he saw the lines of anxiety etch themselves into Kurt's forehead, "That's good, we are going to need you well rested."

Kurt nodded and accepted the box of orange juice Todd pushed into his hand, "So you figured out how to do a transfusion?"

Dwight bit his lip before speaking, "We have an idea of how to do one. It's very old fashioned, nearly archaic, but it's all we have."

Kurt nodded as he began to chew on some slightly stale packaged cookies.

"I'm using the method that Stoker illustrated in Dracula. I had the Twins break into the clinic while you were out and get the supplies I need. It's just a question of how well it will work."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Other than Blaine breaking free during the operation and biting one of us? It doing nothing for him and his blood going the wrong way through the tubes and getting mixed with yours, in which case we know how to take care of you."

Kurt nodded again and swallowed some type of vitamin supplement that Todd pressed into his hand. He hadn't expected any better.

"Are you ready?" Dwight asked.

Kurt felt his hands begin to shake. No of course he wasn't ready to have Dwight slowly drain his blood and hope for the best, but the sooner they acted the more likely it was that they could actually help Blaine.

They strode solemnly from the room. With each step Kurt though less of the risk to his safety and a new fear began to grip him. He was going to see Blaine, or the body that was once and would hopefully again be Blaine. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand seeing that body no longer belonging to the boy he so loved but to some senseless monster.

In what felt like no time they were in front of the door. The Twins were there but Kurt didn't seem to notice them, he was too focused on breathing. Then the door was opening and suddenly Kurt wanted to vomit.

There, strapped to the bed with an insane looking jumble of rope and belts, was the reanimated body of Blaine Anderson. Its flesh looked pale and clammy, the skin across its face and hands looked stretched a little too tightly, and most of its hair had fallen out. Its hands scratched against its firm bonds and its body writhed against the mattress, but the Brightmans had always had a way with knots and it could not break free. A groaning howl fought to escape the thing's mouth but was stopped by a wad of cloth.

"Holy…" Kurt wrenched his eyes away from the monster to look behind him. Shane had just walked up behind him and to be on the verge of passing out.

"Shane why don't you go rest. We'll call you when we're done." Todd said in an even tone.

Shane nodded numbly and staggered down the hallway.

Dwight nudged Kurt forward and he stepped into the room, careful to look only at the floor. He couldn't look at the body that had been home to such a loving soul. The hands Kurt had held, lips he had kissed, arms he had ran to were now all turned to weapons of vile disease.

Dwight led him to a bed that had placed a few feet away from the one where Blaine lay.

Carefully focusing his gaze away from the other bed Kurt lay down and squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear a revolting gurgling and a muffled howling coming from a few feet to his right. His stomach muscles clenched and threatened to expel the granola bars and cookies he had eaten. Kurt swallowed forcing down the bile in his throat.

"Alright," Dwight began matter-of-factly. Kurt however could sense the nerves that were making his voice higher than usual. "So what we are going to do I—"

"No!" Kurt said suddenly, making a snap decision, "I don't want to know. Just do it." The shouting match between Dwight and Shane was still replaying in his brain. It sounded like Dwight's method was archaic and fanciful at best, but it was the only chance they had at saving Blaine. Kurt figured it was best to save himself the extra worry of doubting the procedure and keep himself in the dark.

"Oh, okay." Dwight mumbled sounding taken aback.

Kurt felt his wrist lifted off the bed and something wet was rubbed across it. "Just please tell me that whatever equipment you're using is clean." He pleaded.

"Of course." Dwight assured him. "I we got it from the school clinic."

For some reason Kurt didn't breathe any easier. He gasped as a needle pinched at the tender skin of his arm. The area seemed to throb for a minute as his nerves got used to the tiny rod of metal jammed into his vein. Dwight taped whatever it was that he had jammed into Kurt's arm down and Kurt felt the boy move away from him toward the other bed.

"Evan, Ethan, help me make sure he doesn't move."

There was shuffling as other bodies crossed the room.

It was almost as if Kurt could feel the blood leaving his body. The precious fluid that gave him life was pooling under his skin, each cell waiting for its turn to travel through Dwight's make shift transfusion equipment. Kurt lost himself in the steady pulsing of his own heart, the surge of his own blood. Some internal instinct was preventing him from thinking too much, and so he felt instead. He felt the soft sheets below him, the tension where the tape pulled on his skin, and the cool air of the room.

After minutes or maybe hours Kurt heard Dwight's voice. "I think we should try to restart his heart now, all the blood isn't going to do him any good if it moves that slowly through his veins."

"We should take out the needle," that was definitely Todd, always the sensible one, "we don't want to burn him or hurt Kurt."

"Here's the AED." Two voices chimmed.

There was a flurry of movement and an automated female voice began to speak. "Remove clothing from person's chest."

"Shit." Someone whispered.

"It's okay, we can take some of the bindings off. His body is fighting itself right now, he won't struggle against us." Kurt suddenly realized this was true he hadn't heard Blaine make any noise for the past few minutes, no moaning, no howling no fighting against his restraints.

"Okay we're good!" The Twins announced.

"Place pad's on person's chest as shown.

There was a sound like Velcro tearing apart.

"Analyzing rhythm, everyone stand clear."

A moment of silence passed.

"Shock advised."

Kurt's mind seemed to whirl, shock advised, that was definitely a good sign. It wouldn't have recommended a shock if Blaine's heart had truly stopped, if he was beyond hope of repair.

"Press green button to administer shock."

"Shock being administered. Stand clear."

"Shock delivered. Begin five cycles of CPR."

"Should we…"

"No his bones are probably too brittle… we have to hope this was enough."

There was a sudden gasp as if someone emerging from a pool of water and feeling air in their lungs for the first time in far too long.

"I feel a pulse, and his breathing is quickening. Hurry let's get more blood in him."

Kurt's heart seemed to be beating like crazy. Was this really going to work? They had gotten so far… it seemed to be going so well. But then again he had his eyes closed so he couldn't really tell but he couldn't bring himself to look at Blaine, not yet."

Time again became hazy as Kurt drifted in and out of thought and the blissful absence of thought. He felt a slight twinge of fatigue but didn't give in to sleep, he needed to see this through.

Suddenly a cry of pain issued from the bed next to him. Kurt's eyes flew open because that sound was so utterly and in every way _Blaine_.

Blaine's chest was heaving and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut as if against a bright light. Kurt felt his heart give a violent spasm as he realized Blaine's skin was no longer the sickly pallor it was before, but a slightly flushed color that was much more befitting of living flesh.

Was that really Blaine? Was he coming back?

Kurt lost track of time watching the ragged rise and fall of Blaine's chest. Gradually the rhythm became slower and the rigidity began to melt from Blaine's body.

Just as Kurt truly began to hope Blaine would recover, a new question hit him in the chest; what if Blaine's mind didn't come back? What if they saved his body but he was a vegetable? The enormity of this thought was dizzying so Kurt pushed it from his mind.

He blinked slowly, trying to focus on the sound of Blaine's breathing. He couldn't focus. His eyes felt heavy. All his anxiety was making him so tired. He felt tightness in his chest and it occurred to him what a nuisance it was to breath. Almost automatically he began to take shallower breaths.

Blaine began to move again, but the motion was neither pained nor violent. The fingers on right hand flexed and hesitantly turned into a fist.

Kurt would have gasped (if deep breathing didn't seem like such a chore) as Blaine turned to look at him. And it was_ Blaine. _Those dark lashes blinked to reveal eyes full of pain and confusion but also life and intelligence. They lit up with recognition as they found Kurt's cerulean eyes.

It was at that moment that Kurt Hummel lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>The next few days were a blur.<p>

Kurt remembered regaining consciousness to the sound of concerned voices and alternatively being made to swallow mouthfuls of water and some sweet juice before returning to blissful darkness…

…Blaine had vague memories of cool water running down him…

…The next time Kurt woke up it was Rachel who fed him spoonfuls of a rather tasteless liquid that may have been blended vegetables…

…After the cool water came the soft bed where Blaine lay with odd points of cold pressing against his wrists and forehead…

…Kurt felt so weak. His sleep was dreamless, but during his brief respites from unconsciousness he wondered if he was going to die…

…There was always a terrible heat raging on the inside. Burning Blaine 'til he was certain his bones were mere ashes…

… Eventually, Kurt was able to stay awake for more than a few minutes. They nearly drowned him with the amount of water they made him drink. He swallowed willingly as they ladled lukewarm soup into his mouth…

…Blaine watched as Quinn replaced the cool rags. He smiled softly as he felt her warm fingers on his forehead. He became aware that he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat...

Finally they were both sleeping soundly. The type of sleep that no one doubted they would wake up from and a sleep that at this point was the best thing for them. The conscious members of the house left the bedsides and gathered in the kitchen for well-deserved emergency supply mugs of hot coco.

Kurt blinked into the semi-darkness. Was there no one watching him? No one to shove another semi liquid down his throat?

He rolled over and his legs brushed against the figure next to him.

The slight touch woke Blaine.

It took the boys less than a second to realize who they had been placed in bed with and to find each other's arms. They held each other as tight as their weakened conditions would allow as hot tears began to stream down their face.

"We made it. We made it."

* * *

><p>Epilogue coming soon.<p> 


	9. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, any non canon Glee characters in this fic belong to CP Coulter.

* * *

><p>Morning sun glinted off serpentine coils of barbed wire and fell softly on the overgrown grass highlighted blond from weeks of summer sun. The breeze that swirled around the roof top was still cool and the shingles beneath them were just beginning to absorb the heat of the budding day.<p>

This was Blaine's favorite time, the early hours of what promised to be a warm summer day when the sun was sending its first glowing rays on their little safe haven.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was moments like these more than any other when he truly appreciated being alive. He reveled in sensation, feeling the rough shingles beneath him, the breeze tousling his now too long hair, the smooth guitar in his hands, and most of all the warmth of the body pressed to his side.

He turned slightly to look at Kurt. The boy's eyes were the same breath-taking shade as the sky, and as Kurt smiled the soft skin at their corners crinkled up in a way that Blaine had always found irresistibly adorable.

"Are you going to play me a song?" Kurt asked resting his head on Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine smiled, readjusting his guitar so that he could still play with Kurt snuggling into his side. "Any requests?"

"No… besides you made me choose yesterday."

Blaine laughed, "Fine, but don't blame me if you don't like the song."

He could feel Kurt's body shake as the boy giggled, "Let's be really honest right now Blaine, if your voice is involved I'm going to like it."

Blaine bit his lip as he involuntarily smiled even wider. "Oh really? What about that time I sang 'Friday'?"

A jestingly put upon sigh escaped Kurt's lips, "I never said I wouldn't make fun of you for atrocious taste."

"Fair enough."

Blaine scanned through song titles in his head. He definitely wasn't in a 'Friday' mood. A title jumped out at him. It was a little melancholy, he thought, but a beautiful song.

He stretched his fingers trying to rid them of the dull soreness that seemed to have settled into his bones. Kurt's hands were on his in a second, gently rubbing and massaging, banishing the ache.

This has been one of the side effects left over from that blank period in Blaine's memory when he had become undead. When he had first come to, the weakness in his muscles had been crippling. Despite the fact that when he was transformed (that was the word they had adopted for Blaine's brief stint as a zombie, anything harsher brought tears to Kurt's eyes and an intense feeling of nausea to Blaine's stomach) he had been able to test the strength of the Tweedles' best knots, when he awoke he could hardly lift his head.

He had spent days in bed, the still feeble and recovering Kurt beside him. Even in his weakened, anemic state Kurt tended to Blaine. He spooned warm broth into his mouth, ensured he stayed hydrated, and often sang to him.

There was a day when Kurt was again strong enough to walk from their room of his own accord and spend hours out and about, but even then he never stayed away from Blaine for more than a few minutes.

They spent hours talking, Blaine propped up against a pile of pillows while Kurt kept his hands busy with small tasks. The content of their conversations in these days would be enough to fill a multivolume encyclopedia many times over. If there had ever been a doubt in either boy's mind that they were meant for each other it was snuffed out by the endless hours of soul cleansing talk that transpired in those endless hours.

Blaine's muscles had strengthened as the days went by, and Kurt and Shane were there to help him down stairs for the first time. Once he was again capable of regular movement all that was left was a deep rooted soreness and occasional stiffness. Even this was fading, albeit gradually. It was now about two months since the whole fiasco and he couldn't take a step without feeling the ache in his bones.

Kurt released his hand, and Blaine leaned over to give his boyfriend a grateful, chaste kiss.

He strummed the guitar gently, taking a moment to just feel the cold metal strings beneath his calloused fingers and listen to the harmonic sounds they produced.

His strumming found a steady rhythm as he added perfectly placed notes of discord.

Kurt's head was warm on Blaine's shoulder as the boy began to sing.

_What if I can't be all that you need me to be?  
>We've got a good thing going, we have some promises to keep.<em>

His voice was low and melancholy, its full tones resonated in his chest. Blaine's voice was the only thing that had survived his death and subsequent revival truly unscathed. Sometimes his memory seemed blurry and convoluted, sometimes his muscles felt weak and stiff, but his voice was always strong and steady.

_But my diction, it can be such a detriment.  
>Please believe in this my dear, I am more than penitent.<em>

What if everything's just the way that it will be?  
>Could it be that I am meant to cause you all this grief?<br>My warship's a-lying off the coast of your delicate heart,  
>And my aim is steady and true as it's been right from the start.<p>

Blaine had always loved this song, the irresistible sorrow of the subtle melody, the beautifully crafted lyrics…

_There's a degree of difficulty in dealing with me.  
>From my haunted past comes a daunting task of living through memories.<br>If we could just hang a mirror on the bedroom wall  
>Stare into the past, and forget it all... <em>

As he lost himself in the rhythm of his strumming, he began to realize how fitting this song was; not for him and Kurt of course, because even when their lives had been shattered to pieces and snuffed out they had been the only thing that was still alright, but for their whole situation in general; their present existence of cautionary survival had been preceded by a past of horror that no one would ever be able to fully recover from.

The nightmares were some of the most obvious signs of the trauma they dealt with. Of course everyone in Windsor dealt with horrific nightmares, but none quite matched Kurt and Blaine's. Blaine wasn't sure how many times he had seen Kurt's body lifeless and bloody and his own pale hands covered in blood, only to wake up screaming to Kurt pulling him close and petting his hair until he could calm down enough to realize it had all been a dream.

Then there were the nights where he woke up to Kurt thrashing violently, whimpering, and trying to scratch something off his skin. Often the paniced boy howled about a fire as he tried to tear the virus from his skin. On these occasions Blaine usually had to pin Kurt to the bed for his own safety and whisper comfort until the boy either woke or passed into a more restful slumber.

Then there was the one night when Blaine had gone to get a glass of water and came back to find Kurt huddled against the wall pleading desperately with an invisible specter.

"No, please don't, please…" he whimpered. "I tried, to save you Blaine, I tried so hard, I couldn't. Please don't, I love you." Then he let out a world shattering scream. Blaine raced across the room to shake him awake. Kurt's eyes flew open but they filled with terror as they beheld Blaine and he struck out with a fist, hitting Blaine squarely in the chest. Kurt's eyes suddenly cleared and widened. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry Blaine, I—"

"Shhh, it's alright, you were dreaming." There were tears running down Blaine's cheeks, not from the impact of the blow, but from the heartbreaking realization of what Kurt's dream had been.

Kurt was clinging to his chest pressing salty kisses to his jaw line, "Don't ever leave me Blaine," he murmured. Blaine kissed his boyfriend back softly, knowing he never would.

Blaine pulled himself out of his reverie, they would deal with the nightmares when they came, now was the time to revel in the fact that he and Kurt were miraculously alive pressed together in the warming summer sunlight.

_So when we leave it'll be a quick midnight escape.  
>We'll disconnect ourselves from all of yesterday.<br>I'll dig for water and fashion our very own wishing well.  
>Then, we'll throw our coins down hoping to rid us of this little hell.<em>

A door opened below them and Blaine watched his brother and Reed walk onto the grass, hand in hand. They circled around the lawn, following the path of the barbed wire defense that, after weeks of struggling to defend Windsor, the Twins and Puck had found on an excursion outside the boundaries of Dalton. If anything had improved their quality of life it had been this finally successful form of defense; if any zombie actually got through the barrier they were so torn apart that they were very little threat.

But Blaine wasn't thinking of that. He was watching the way Shane bounced around with the childlike excitement he had never out grown. Reed's musical laugh reached their ears and Blaine couldn't help but smile.

_There's a degree of difficulty in dealing with me.  
>From my haunted past comes a daunting task of living through memories.<br>_

He felt Kurt move next to him, sitting up so that he could harmonize with Blaine, as always his voice sweet and pure.

_If we could just hang a mirror on the bedroom wall  
>Stare into the past, and forget it all...<br>_

Memories and conflicting emotions filled Blaine's mind…

_Will we get out of this little hell?_

He saw Pav diving toward Mr. Schue, then he saw the rhythmically dancing bodies that had filled the Windsor common room with lively frivolity.

_Will we get out of this little hell?_

He saw Sam's face as the zombie's teeth sank into his neck, then he saw the look of utter ecstasy on his brother's face when Reed reached for his hand without encouragement.

_Will we get out of this little hell?_

He saw the naked fear in Kurt's eyes as he showed Blaine the small cut where Pav's beak had pierced his skin, then he saw Kurt smiling tiredly at him as they lay in bed, his cerulean eyes sparkling and lips beautifully swollen.

_Will we get out of this little hell?_

He felt Kurt's lips press softly to his cheek as he strummed the last few chords.

"That was beautiful, thank you," Kurt murmured slipping an arm around Blaine's waist.

They allowed themselves to bask in the summer sun for a few more moments before Kurt sighed and stood up.

"We should go back down, we don't want to be late for breakfast and song."

Over time the group had developed its own schedule and traditions. Breakfast was a big deal now. Everyone came. Afterwards they sat around for an hour while people took turns playing guitar and singing, most of the songs ended up as group numbers.

So much of their days now centered around music, or more broadly, the arts. They had plenty of work to do, keeping the house clean and functional, burning bits of zombie flesh off the barbed wire barrier, and expeditions to grocery stores to restock the food supply every few weeks. However, they still found plenty of time to devote to art.

The transition in lifestyle happened while Blaine was recovering, and by the time he was capable of joining the rest of the house on a daily bases a good portion of the day was already devoted to song and painting. The people who could sing did, those who couldn't learned. Guitar and music lessons were taught by the instrumentally knowledgeable members of the house. Everyone tried painting or sketching at some point, and many tested their hand at writing. Every once and a while, Artie hosted poetry slams which the whole house enjoyed.

The new style of living worked, art had saved them from the psychological dangers of being trapped in a single location with no foreseeable escape. Sure they got down sometimes, but being able to create together was a big enough incentive for them to keep going.

Blaine took Kurt's hand and allowed Kurt to help him up, his muscles aching a bit and shaking as he stood.

They really shouldn't be late to breakfast again. Rachel gave them a stern talking to last time they were late. Blaine smirked as he remembered that morning. Kurt, who had improved his drawing ability greatly, was complaining about how he was tired of drawing clothes, he then asked if he could draw Blaine, and well the morning went from there.

Blaine was just steadying himself on the gradually sloping roof when he heard it, the distant hum of a motor.

"Blaine!" Kurt whispered urgently clutching at his arm. "Blaine do you hear that?"

"Yeah," he spotted the irregular shape against the clear summer sky, "it's a—"

"Helicopter!"

They were frozen with overwhelming emotion as the aircraft hovered closer. Finally it was almost directly above then and was low enough that they could feel the wind from its blades ruffle their hair.

A voice, amplified by speakers called down to them, "Are you companions of Han Westwood? We got your message. We've come to save you."

* * *

><p>Fist wrapped lightly on the door to their flat.<p>

"It's about time!" Finn said, reaching for a cookie from the sheet Kurt had just removed from the oven.

Kurt swatted his hand away, "No cookies until everyone is here Finn, if I let you start eating now there aren't going to be any left." Finn pouted his lips looking hurt and returned to leaning against the counter.

Right on cue Blaine stepped into the kitchen, grinning with good cheer. "Do I need to get the door?"

"No, I think Evan and Ethan have got it." Kurt laughed as he heard two sets of feet racing across the flat and sliding on the wood floor.

Blaine smiled and kissed his boyfriend on the temple as he swiped a cookie.

"Not fair!" Finn shouted as Blaine tested the hot cookie against his lips.

The curly haired man smiled mischievously, "Chef's fiancé gets special privileges."

Finn looked indignantly at Kurt who just shrugged.

"That's so not fair!"

"Dude, are you just figuring that out? I realized that ages ago." Wes declared, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

"But, but—"

No one seemed to hear him. Blaine had taken a bite of the cookie and was now feeding bits to Kurt.

"These are amazing Kurt," he gushed, kissing a crumb away from the corner of his fiancé's mouth.

Wes looked over the top of his paper, "How are you guys still so revoltingly cute after all these years?"

Kurt and Blaine laughed and Kurt was about to come up with a witty retort but was interrupted by exuberant greetings coming from the entryway.

They had hardly had time to get out of the kitchen before they were converged upon and the world suddenly became a tangle of grabbing arms and excited smiles.

"Reed!" Kurt squealed wrapping the man in a tight hug even though he had seen him only the day before.

Reed returned the hug and beamed at his best friend. He wasn't much below Kurt's eye level anymore, after he had gotten that growth spurt freshman year of college and became roughly the same height as Blaine.

"How's the new kitten? Thought of a name yet?"

Reed rolled his eyes but the smile didn't leave his face, "I don't know why I let Shane talk me into getting a cat. She was meowing all night! And as far as names go _I _want to name her Chiffon, but Shane is stuck on Muffin."

Kurt laughed and patted his friend's shoulder sympathetically, "I'm sorry but I thing a love for cheesy names just runs in that family, "Blaine told me he wants a puppy named Bobo."

Reed shivered in mock disgust. Sometimes Kurt marveled at how Reed was no longer that timid insecure boy he had known at Dalton. Reed Van Kamp was now a confident and very handsom young man with an internship at _Vogue_. Before Kurt could ask him how said internship was going, Reed was suddenly attacked by two very tall blond figures.

Kurt turned away with a chuckle to face Brittany.

Brittany and Santana as always were attached at the hip. Brittany gave him a bright smile but Santana simply looked on with a reproving glare that he knew was an act. "How did the final performance of your show go Britt?"

"Great!" the girl beamed placidly. "I got offered another job where I have to be a cat, I've been trying to get advise from Lord Tubbington but he's been with holding."

Santana smiled at her long term… whatever undefined relationship was and whispered to Kurt, "She was hired for an off-Broadway production of _Cats _I've never seen her so excited in her life."

Kurt grinned at them but at that moment two more people arrived in the apartment and all hope of being heard was lost.

"It's the newlyweds!"

"Welcome back!"

"How was Paris!"

A simply glowing Quinn and Chaz made their way to the center of the room accepting hugs and dodging Puck, Evan, and Ethan's more prying questions on how the honeymoon had been.

Soon after, Mercedes, Todd, and Dwight arrived, toting a large tray of lasagna they were all assembled and ready to begin the festivities. Paper plates were passed out and everyone loaded up. However, no one, not even Finn, took a bite, they had to wait until after the speech, it was tradition.

Since there were no tables big enough they settled around the living room. Plates in one hand, wine glasses in the other.

Wes looked expectantly at the Brightman twins, "You guys going to start this thing off?"

The two blond heads shook violently, "We did it the first year!"

"Chaz?"

"I did it the year after that!"

"Blaine?"

"I did the speech last year!"

"Kurt?"

"I—" he really couldn't think of a good excuse…

The Twins grinned evilly and began to chant his name, soon the whole gathering was chanting "Kurt, Kurt, Kurt!" with growing speed.

"Fine! I'll do it!" Kurt setting his plate on the floor and stepping into the middle of the living room.

Kurt stood with the thin stem of his wine glass clutched delicately in his hand. He cleared his throat, no exact speech in mind. He never had to plan what he was going to say in front of these people, they understood him far too well to worry about that. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am honored to welcome you to our fourth annual Independence Day celebration!" His friends cheered and clapped, the Twins did a victory dance in their chairs.

"I feel like this is the point in the speech where I should tell you tell you all how much I've missed you, but the truth is, I see all of you far too much!" He adopted his best jestingly put-upon face.

The room laughed and Kurt winked at Reed and Shane whose studio apartment he had been at only yesterday. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Santana roll her eyes, she and Brittany had been over at least three times that week.

"And you know what?" he said, feigning deep thoughtfulness, "I'm alright with that."

Artie raised his hand to the heavens, "Amen!" Kurt felt warm blossoming around his heart. He had been thrilled when they found out that thanks to the excellent physical disability accommodations at the college of his choice he was able to join them in New York. It had just so happened that Bailey was also interested in that college. The two roomed together and quickly became inseparable. Together they had started working on a musical that in Kurt's opinion could seriously go places.

"When I look back on this year, I realize how far we have all come. Last year we were nothings, well I guess that's not true, we were the Dalton 25, famous for living through a tragedy none of us could control. But look at us now, finding our place in the world and many of us garnering our own fame and fortune to boot. Well except you Julian, I don't think anyone knows who you are."

The friends positively howled at that. After all, Julian Larson being saved from a zombie infestation had been the story of the decade. Not to mention, that he had just wrapped up filming what promised to be the biggest blockbuster of the year.

"But now look at us now," Kurt continued, "among our number we have award winning authors," he gestured to Todd whose semi-autobiographical zombie horror novel had taken America by storm, "college grads" he nodded in turn at Justin and Charlie, "successful commercial dancers," Brittany graced them with a celebratory fist pump, "and even a married couple!" Everyone beamed at Quinn and Chaz whose fingers were locked together as they listened to Kurt speak.

"And another marriage soon to follow!" Rachel cheered a huge smile stretching across her face as she waggled her eyebrows at Kurt and nudged Blaine in the ribs.

Kurt could feel his cheeks getting warm, but he couldn't hide his utter joy as he saw the same pleased embarrassment on his fiancé, soon to be husband's, face.

"The point is," Kurt said at little breathlessly, "that we have all come so far. Now, that's not to say we've made it, that we've reached our peak. Not at all. This is just the beginning! We have nowhere to go but up."

He smiled at Mercedes who he knew was working her butt off waitressing while trying to start her music career, then at Puck who had finally got a steady job as a bartender, but was stuck couch surfing while he tried to put some money in the bank.

"But wherever any of us end up, I'll know it was because of the unbelievable support of all the people in this room. For that I am enormously grateful." Everyone nodded seriously and Kurt saw more than a few people clasp hands with their neighbors.

"I know that one day I will see Santana tear down the toughest opponents in court, I will vote Charles Amos for senator, I will see every show at the theater Wes's father is going to buy for him, and I will recommend Dr. Justin Bancroft to any of my friends who need a psychiatrist. And Quinn you better bet that when I adopt kids they are going to be in your class." He caught Blaine's goofy smile out of the corner of his eye.

"I promise that I will thank each and every one of you in my Tony speech, and I expect Rachel Berry to do the same." Rachel's face flushed red with excitement as she considered the prospect.

His eyes caught on Finn. Finn who was always eager to support a friend but was so lost himself. He was going to school and working at a garage but the only thing in his life that truly seemed to bring him joy were his friends and his relationship with Rachel.

"Eventually we will all find our callings, but remember if you ever feel lost you have somewhere to turn.

"Our futures are promising, but on this day, I think it is important not only to look forward with hope, but delve into our dark past.

"Four years ago today, we boarded a helicopter and were transported back into civilization. Four years ago, what I hope are the most horrific few months of our lives had just ended. We had lost four companions and one mentor, we had lived through battle, unquenchable fear, and even death. Then we were thrown back into a world that we had forgotten how to live in and were not ready for.

"I propose a moment of silence to remember the turmoil of those months, and to honor the memory of Sam, Mike, Tina, David, and Mr. Shue."

The room fell silent. Kurt bowed his head, remembering the faces of his lost friends. But the memories did not end there.

He thought of the helicopter ride where everything seemed far too good to be true as he clutched Blaine to his chest and watched the forsaken, deserted cities pass below him. Then came the inspections. He was poked and prodded, blood work was done, and he was kept in isolation for twelve hours. He remembered Blaine's frantic whisper as they wrenched the two of them apart for separate testing, "Don't tell them you're the cure." Kurt wasn't sure if he would have divulged the fact that his blood was capable of killing the zombie virus without Blaine's warning, but the absolute terror in Blaine's eyes made him keep his mouth shut. If he hadn't, Kurt was sure he probably wouldn't have been released from that lab for well over a year.

Before they were released to their parents they were subjected to interviews. It was overwhelming but at first it made them feel like heroes, their survival was indeed both heroic and miraculous. But the questions dug too deep and pried too far. They weren't ready and they felt naked sharing the horror and fear of their experiences with the American public. It wasn't until Puck started to cry that Dwight and the Tweedles flipped out, screaming at the interviewers and forcing them to leave.

These type of problems cropped up for them on an almost daily basis for the next six months. Interviewers were everywhere, and since one wrong word could set most of the survivors off and so leaving the house was often like walking into a mine field until the media finally found a new hot story. Not to mention the media loved twisting their words, creating fictional drama and schisms in the group as if facing down zombies wasn't exciting enough. One story that became a personal favorite among the group occurred when Finn opened the door to find camera men on his door step. He stood like a deer in the head lights as they bombarded him with questions about why he had allowed his choir director to die when he had the chance to save him. Kurt tried to come to his rescue but was felled when asked if he had ever come close to being bitten. Burt pulled up in the drive way then, and with ferocity to match a raging grizzly bear, chased the camera men down the street screaming "Not my sons you bastards" at the top of his lungs.

After the first disastrous interviews they were discharged and released into the arms of their overjoyed families. This was one of the few truly beautiful memories Kurt had from that time, being enveloped in his dad's warm arms and hearing his soft, "Don't worry kiddo, I got you," as his knees went weak. Next to him Finn and Carol were sobbing loudly as Carol stroked back Finn's hair and stared at his face as if looking away would make him disappear again. All around him the Dalton 25 were running into their parent's arms. Despite the overwhelming emotion, Kurt felt a twinge of hope as he watched Mr. Anderson hug both of his son's at once and kiss each on the cheek as grateful tears rolled down his face.

Walking into his house was like walking into a museum, he recognized everything inside, yet he was so out of touch. The first dinner was a painful affair, and although he had missed his father and Carol he could do little more than cry silently as he scarfed down salad and pizza.

In an effort to get their boys to open up Burt and Carol separated them. Carol escorted Finn up to his room and Burt sat with Kurt in the living room.

"I know you've been through a lot," Burt began a little awkwardly, "and I know you may not be able to talk yet, but know that when you are ready I'll be here."

Kurt wanted to tell his dad, he wanted to talk, but when he thought of the enormity of explaining to someone the fear that pulsed through his veins when he heard the ungodly howls of the undead, he crumbled. That night he cried himself to sleep in his father's arms.

That night also held other vivid memories for Kurt. Hours later he woke up in his bed, his skin was burning with fever and images of Blaine dead but animate, a blood thirsty monster dancing before his eyes. He screamed into the darkness but the images wouldn't flee. Suddenly his father was there, but that was all wrong. Kurt had been bitten again and this time he was actually transforming. Worst of all it was Blaine who had bitten him.

He fought against his father's grasp writhing on the bed. Blaine where was Blaine, maybe if he found Blaine he could give him his blood and everything would be okay. He was vaguely aware that his screams had turned into words "Dwight", "transfusion", "blood", "please", "Blaine".

Suddenly a familiar voice broke into his mind. "Kurt! Kurt!" A large warm hand was on his arm, and it wasn't his father's. Kurt clutched at his neck where he had been bit but the hands stopped his wrists.

"Kurt it's alright. You haven't been bit. You're fine."

Kurt's vision began to clear and he saw Finn staring at him.

"Where's Blaine?"

"With his family on their way to Colorado."

"But he's a zom—"

"No he's not Kurt, remember you saved him."

"Yeah but –"

"He's fine. You're fine. We're safe… we're home."

Kurt began to calm down and breathe as Finn's large hands rubbed his back. He could trust what Finn said, Finn knew, Finn understood. The two brothers slept in Kurt's bed that night.

As the days went by the problems appeared to disappear but underneath the surface they persisted.

The survivors had forgotten how to live in the normal world, how to go about normal business. They panicked when going outside at night, and were wary of eating all the food provided them. The hardest part though, was speaking to people who didn't understand. It was painful for Kurt to live with Burt and Carol who wanted so badly to understand yet would never be able to. Frustration at not being able to lead a normal life built within him, only exacerbating the nightmares.

One night after a tensely quiet dinner Kurt and Finn broke down. With shaking voices, they told their parent's in as much detail as they could remember. Burt and Carol rubbed their backs soothingly as the words flowed like blood. It wasn't until Kurt said he had been bit and retold his near death experience that Burt started to cry.

Outside of the house there was counseling and psychotherapy. Neither of which did any good, after all how do you treat someone who has lived for three months constantly bombarded by the living dead?

Kurt wasn't the only one who went through these things. Within hours of being separated, the survivors began to miss the people they had seen constantly for the past few months, the people that had helped them deal with the horror and find a type of peace in the chaos of fear. The first few days back in civilization each survivor tried to dedicate to their family, but soon the need for each other's companionship was too great.

The New Directions were lucky, they all lived in Lima, so it was only a few minutes' drive to each other's houses. With increasing frequency the whole group of them would meet for hours a day.

Being with each other was better than any type of therapy that could have been provided. Anxiety and frustration ebbed away and was replaced by comfort and a feeling of normalcy. It was too the point that they could bust out in full blown musical numbers which ended in fits of genuine laughter but as soon as they were parted each person began to shake with horribly uncontrollable fear and exasperation.

The Dalton boys were spread out in their homes around the country and had a much harder time, but at least Blaine and Shane found solace in each other as did Evan and Ethan. However, Blaine ached deeply for Kurt and sometimes even Shane couldn't calm him down when he woke in fits of terror.

Logan was the first to show up in Lima. He simply showed up on Kurt's door step duffle bag slung over his shoulder. At the sight of Kurt the anxiety washed from his face and he captured the boy in a bone crushing hug which Kurt returned without a second thought. Even Finn was ecstatic to see Logan and insisted that he crash there until he could find a more permanent residence.

Hearing that Logan had returned to Ohio triggered a flood of Dalton boys. Blaine and Shane showed up within twenty-four hours and the rest not much later.

Soon only Dwight, Justin, and Han were missing from their number.

Justin showed up with an escort a week later, it had taken a complete mental break down for his parents to fly him back to the "zombie infested states".

Dwight only returned to Ohio after a poorly prescribed anxiety drug almost had him jumping off the roof.

Han never returned. In fact Kurt had never seen him in person again. He was the only one who reacted differently to the trauma. It was as if it had all been a rather horrible computer game or a deeply scarring book that was best to simply close and forget about. Through the next few years he would skype with them from his dorm at Cal Tech but Kurt never saw him in the flesh.

Things started to settle down and by early October they were able to attend school again. Chaz and Justin had been awarded honorary diplomas by the state and began college at a nearby university. The rest of them went to McKinley. That year the glee club was run by an elected student panel and had a huge tenor section.

Their lives had a semblance of normality, and interacting with those they secretly thought of as "the others" became easier. Still, during this time some odd behaviors appeared. Rachel began eating only canned food that she kept neatly organized in her room and Dwight had to be prevented from collecting rats.

In December Julian took an offer and flew to LA for two months of filming. Kurt still remembered the headline three weeks later stating that the actor Julian Larson had had a mental breakdown. Logan flew out to LA and Julian was able to finish filming and the two returned after two months, closer than ever.

As graduation drew near heavy decisions began to weigh on their thoughts. Did they all have to go their separate ways now? Was that the smartest choice; braving the world alone and hoping that the anxiety and nervousness just needed to be waited out? Although some psychiatrists may have suggested this, the idea was unbearable. But so was the idea of staying in Lima for the rest of their lives, so they moved to New York City.

It amazed Kurt how easy it was to find housing with a group of exceedingly rich boys from well-connected families. Of course Kurt didn't even have to bother looking for housing as the Brightmans insisted he and Blaine, as well as Rachel and Finn, move with them to the flat their parents had given them for a graduation present. That flat kept a special place in Kurt's heart; after all it was the sight of he and Blaine's first real kiss.

The rest of their friends stationed themselves around the city near their respective schools in groups of three or four. All that really mattered was that no one was alone.

There was a constant stream of people in and out of each apartment. They were like one huge extended family. A quiet dinner often involved at least twelve of them and a night out on the town was often even bigger than that. Big events like birthdays or graduations called for huge riotous celebrations and often a good deal of public embarrassment.

Relationships outside of the group never seemed to last very long, likewise friendships never became too meaningful. Kurt wondered whether it was the need to have someone who understood horror of setting eyes on the undead, the lingering sadness of knowing friends who had become one, and why having a box of matches and unlit candle by your bed was a comfort. Or if it was that in those months trapped so closely together when they had all been so vulnerable they had been forced to truly get to know each other in a way that was impossible in the fast-paced outside world where one doesn't have to protect themselves from zombies, but from other people.

The only person to have a successful outside relationship was Dwight who had been seeing Justin's little sister Laura off and on for some time now.

As the moment of silence drew to a close Kurt raised his head and his eyes met with the beautiful hazel eyes that he knew so well but never tired of looking at. He loved that man with all his heart. That man who held him when the nightmares came, who let himself be held when he was in turn the victim of such visions, who still had to massage the ache out of his muscles at the end of the day, who made Kurt feel special every day without trying, and who was a music and English double major that was bound to make something of himself (Logan and Julian were already working on getting him an internship with a music producer). Kurt instinctually knew that he wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for Blaine, and he instinctually knew he wouldn't want to be here without him.

Kurt forced his gaze away from Blaine, they would have time for long gazes and intimate confessions later. Kurt swallowed as he beheld the room full of broken people who somehow together made a whole, and he smiled, "Thank you, now may we drink to the memories of Sam, Tina, Mike, David, and Mr. Schuester."

They raised their wine glasses in unison and brought them down to their lips.

"One last thing," he felt a smile again trace across his lips "if there are not at least two hours of drunken karaoke tonight I am going to be extremely disappointed in all of you!"

The room erupted in applause and genuine laughter. They threw off the gloom of the past and spent the evening eating, drinking, conversing loudly, and giving into their tendency to break into song and dance.

And although they would never forget what happened in those dark months so many years ago, it didn't matter what had been or what would come to be because their love was all they needed to make it through.

* * *

><p>So first off I did not expect the epilogue to be this long! Sometimes that just happens though...<p>

Thank you so much for reading! And thank you to those people who left comments, you really kept me going! I appreciate each and every one of you and thank you for letting me share this with you.

This was a huge learning experience and test for me when it comes to working with the pressure of time (which I obviously failed at) so I thank anyone who stuck it out.

Sadly this will most likely be the last story I post here. If you are interested in seeing more of my writing keep your eye on the kurt_blaine livejournal forum where I will be posting Harry Potter/Glee crossovers with acerulean.

Thanks!


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